


Put my heart down

by monohighbrid



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: A Lot of Plot, All Out War Arc (Walking Dead), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Sexual Assault, Canon-Typical Violence, Conspiracy, Cruel Negan, F/M, Hurt Simon, Implied/Referenced Torture, Oral Sex, Pre-Canon, Psychological Torture, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Savior-centric, Smut, Torture, Vaginal Sex, a little bit of smut, both physically and emotionally, the OFC is Negan's sister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-06-12 12:05:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15339510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monohighbrid/pseuds/monohighbrid
Summary: You married Negan, you made a commitment, but now you made a grave mistake and Simon will be the one paying the price.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The OFC is Negan's sister. She is second in command. She is crazy.
> 
> I will try to update weekly.
> 
> Comments and kudos are welcomed.

You pressed yourself against the window to get a better view on the yard below anxious to see Negan’s big black truck leaving the Sanctuary. Finally.

“I grab a smoke,” you said immediately to Tanya who just stared at you from her place on the couch next to an ever-crying Amber.

“A smoke?” she asked with suspicion in her voice but didn’t go on. Not in front of Amber. You couldn’t trust her, not yet. Not when she felt miserable and might drag you into it just because she could. Negan had left without Nell and Simon, which meant Nell was effectively in charge and there was only one place where Simon would be, hiding and minding his own business in his room. What you and Simon were doing was dangerous, but you couldn’t help it. You were drawn to the man like a moth to a flame, a flame that could easily be blown out if the big man, your “husband” would ever find out. But he wasn’t here now, was he, and Nell gave a flying shit about Simon per se, she barely acknowledged his presence, and the Sanctuary was half abandoned since Negan had taken most of the men with him. Right now was a perfect time. Sure enough, the corridors were empty, and you softly knocked on Simon’s door. No answer. You tentatively turned the handle, but the door was locked.

“Shit,” you mumbled under your breath. Where was he? The armory came to mind. Simon used calm moments like that to double check if all was okay, he didn’t particularly trust Nell and her goons, he trusted no one but himself for that matter. This was the part of the Sanctuary you weren’t supposed to be, so you carefully snuck around every corner. The door to the armory was open, and someone was rummaging around in it. You slowly stuck your head in to peek around the doorframe and a wide smile appeared. You snuck in and closed your hands over his eyes. Simon jumped. With a curse he turned around, nearly knocking you over, but he caught you by your hips. He frowned and carefully pushed you a bit away.

“Jesus, what are you doing here?” his eyes snapped to the door that was just ajar. “You are not supposed to be here. You should leave, now!” you put on your cutest pout and walked closer to him, putting your arms around his waist.

“But I missed you,” Simon was tall, and he didn’t do you the favor to bend down and meet you in a kiss, so you had to get up on your toes. You still didn’t reach his lips. “Negan’s gone,” you pressed a light kiss on his chin. “Took most of his men with him,” another on his pulse point. “It’s just the guards,” a soft one on his jaw. “And Nell’s in her room holding court,” you chuckled. Simon sighed.

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, I know,” you pressed yourself closer to him and finally he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in a deep kiss. His tongue slowly ran around the seams of your lips and you opened them dutifully to let it in your mouth. With nimble fingers, you opened his belt, pushed away with a grin and just dropped on your knees taking his cargo pants and his boxer briefs with you.

“Y/N, this is really not, oh fuck,” you cut him off when you without hesitation put the tip of his already hardening dick in your mouth. Simon was bigger than Negan, so no way you could fit all, but you most certainly would try. You could feel him getting bigger and harder in your mouth and you hummed in appreciation, eliciting a groan out of the man. Simon let his thumb run along your jaw before he grabbed a bit of your hair and tugged at it gently, signaling you to move. His wish was your command. You bobbed your head back and forth, establishing a steady rhythm and Simon had a hard time not to buck his hips. What you couldn’t reach with your mouth you stroke with one hand, massaging the base, while the other gently knead his balls. Simon above you moaned. You looked up to him and your eyes met, his blown by lust, and he moaned on the sight. Suddenly he pulled away and out of your mouth with a plop. He dragged you up on one forearm with urgency and crashed your lips together. His tongue invaded your mouth and you submitted without resistance. He turned you both around and lifted you up a workbench covered with tools you probably needed to maintain the guns. He carelessly pushed them away. With rather rough and calloused hands he nearly ripped your panties off. He already lined up to push himself into you when you shortly came to your senses.

“Wait, wait,” he looked at you a bit confused. “Condom,” you just said. A split second something like shock appeared on Simon’s face that he forgot. You wouldn’t put it in the realm of impossibilities that Negan was delusional enough to believe that after nearly 2 years of banging six different chicks without knocking one up he wasn’t shooting blanks, but Nell wasn’t, and she would put two and two together rather quickly. Simon took the pack of cigarettes you were clutching in your hands and shook out the condom you were hiding in it. He made short work in putting in on, grabbed your upper thighs, pulled you closer and pushed into you without giving you any preparation. You liked the burn, the feeling of getting stretched without warning by Simon’s impressive girth, always had. That you liked it a bit more on the rough side was the reason you were Negan’s favorite, too, but the other man paled in comparison to Simon. He gave you a second to adjust after he had bottomed out, but then he pulled out again and slammed back into you forcefully causing you to cry out. Having Simon in you always felt like coming home and no other man had you on edge so quickly, and before long all you could do was clutch onto his broad biceps, biting your lips to keep your moans to yourself all while he slammed into you again and again, hard and fast, smooth like a piston, in a rhythm that got faster and faster until you couldn’t take it anymore. His hand flew to your mouth just in time, otherwise, you would have screamed out loud when he ripped a forceful orgasm out of you. You spasmed around him, your whole body shaking in aftershock. And his thrusts became erratic and he came with his face pressed against your shoulder. Although you felt quite boneless you did your best to clench around him. He was still breathing heavily when he pulled out of you and got rid of the condom that he after some looking around carelessly wrapped in some dirty rug and pushed in one of his pockets. That smug smile appeared on his face that froze in place when a voice pierced through the air.

“Well, lookie here,” Nell said in the same tone Negan would, the same sing-song, southern drawl with an edge of cold steel in it. “That was quite the show. You don’t get that kind of entertainment much these days,” Simon’s face went blank and he stepped a step away from you. He rather mechanically pulled his pants up and tucked himself away which gave you a look on the woman behind him. The resemblance between Negan and his younger sister was remarkable, the same jaws and lips, the same hair, although hers was still dark brown and lacked any grey, and the same cold hazel brown eyes now staring at you. She had one eyebrow raised, and she didn’t look particularly angry, but the smile she had on her lips didn’t reach her eyes. She was alone. The casually held sidearm in her hand was all backup she needed.

“Well now, Simon. I am all for some afternoon delight and I don’t give a shit how you spend your free time, but whom are you spending it with? That’s a no-no,” Simon turned around and faced her. He straightened himself to his full height and lifted his chin. You climbed down from the bench and brought your skirt in order. Nell chuckled.

“What’s that? You trying that alpha male bullshit on me? Now? You have some nerve. Tell me, you carry any weapons with you except that impressive dick of yours? Have to say maybe I should have put some consideration in taking you for a spin after all,” Simon deflated a little. He shot you a little glare. You were in shock. This was it. Simon already had a hard stand with Negan after that stunt he pulled with these boys in that community and Nell had been the loudest advocate of killing him. Simon wouldn’t get away with it with a demotion and the iron. Negan would kill him, or even worse Nell would, slowly, over a couple of very long days, the medieval kind of creative. Between Nell and Negan she was the more reasonable one, the more peaceful one, the friendlier sibling, the one that spared the people in the communities they owned when drops were light, or people made mistakes, that cut them some slack. Or at least she was on the outside. There was no bullshitting her when it came to the hierarchy among the Saviors. She demanded respect, and she got it. You better fell in line, or you would regret you hadn’t. And in her own calm way she was way worse than Negan, something dark and brooding was under her skin that you could see now. Negan wasn’t one for physical torture, but sometimes it was a necessary evil and Simon had told you what exactly the woman was capable of when both Negan and Nell hadn’t been in the Sanctuary and you had shared a stolen bottle of wine and a rare night together. Nell pulled out her walkie.

“Gary sweetie, do you copy?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Can you come to the war room, bring some cuffs, maybe some rope,” after a pause and an amused smirk. “Maybe my toys,” there was a pause on the other end, Gary clearly irritated where this was coming from all of the sudden, but then he gave her an affirmative. She grinned at Simon gloatingly. “You two come willingly?” Simon nodded tersely. “Then by all means, lead the way.”

She let you pass. You could feel her presence behind you and couldn’t help but to scoot closer to Simon. Your hands brushed and for a split second he grabbed yours and squeezed it gently. Nell gave you a little push.

“Nothing of that now. Leave space for Jesus,” she chuckled. In the war room, it took Gary two seconds to put together the scene and a look of utter disappointment in his boss appeared on his face. “Sit down, get comfy. As comfortable as you can get,” she gave Gary a little head jerk and he nodded tensely before he nearly apologetically fastened one of Simons' hands onto the heavy table. Simon looked down on it and then back in your eyes. Nell had pushed you on the seat across from him and sauntered now to the place Negan usually occupied. Between you and Simon lay a little bundle. You had no idea what it was, but by the look, Simon gave it and the way his face paled nothing good, probably the toys she had mentioned. Nell propped her feet up.

“What do you want me to do?” Gary asked her. He had positioned himself in front of the door, effectively blocking it. She mustered Gary, Simon and you. Simon stared back in open defiance, which made her chuckle once more, but you couldn’t look up and only saw her out of the corner of your eyes.

“Negan’s back in three hours,” she leaned back. “Now we do nothing. We just wait.”


	2. Chapter 2

All Nell had to do to make the wait unbearable was being there. She had propped her feet on an empty chair and was idly cleaning her fingernails with her knife, the handgun carelessly discarded on the table, occasionally humming or whistling like this here was not waiting for the Judge, Jury, and Executioner to arrive, but an impromptu vacation. She had sent Gary out of the room, so it was just you, Simon, and her. It felt like you were in here for a million years. You couldn’t stop the shaking, the rising of panic you barely could force down, the sobbing that sporadically escaped your throat. This was your fault and yours alone. If you had listened to Simon and just walked out of that room. If you had waited and met him another time. If you never started that affair in the first place. Another sob.

“Jesus baby doll, pull yourself together already. That’s not your head in the noose,” Nell said without looking up from studying a hangnail on her thump. She sounded bored. Simon smiled at you encouragingly and your heart broke a little. Nell was right, you would come out of this fine, and here he was, being strong for you although it was his life on the line. Your gaze fell on the sidearm. Simon followed your eyes with his. An alarmed expression appeared on his face, he pressed his lips together and shook his head. You made a move, but Nell was faster. She suddenly sat upright on the table like she never loitered around in her chair, one hand on the gun, an eyebrow raised and with a look that was almost impressed. You had frozen in your movement. You barely had made it 10 inches anyways. Simon’s eyes snapped between you and her.

“She didn’t mean to – “

“Shut up,” Nell said dismissively, “Well look at you Baby Cakes, growing a pair. So go ahead,” to your utter shock she slid the gun to you. “Come on, pick it up.”

You looked at Simon like he was some sort of lifeline, but he just stared down on the gun with a weird expression.

“Don’t,” he said. Nell snapped at him.

“The shut up wasn’t a suggestion. You want me to go ahead and cut that tongue out already, hm?” Simon looked rather audacious right now, but he kept his mouth shut. Nell turned back to you. “Go on then,” she said in an encouraging tone. You reluctantly grabbed the gun. It was heavy. You had never been especially good out there. The group you had been with had enough muscle to keep you away from the action, not that it had helped them or you when the Saviors showed up, so you never really learned how to use a gun. A knife, sure, and you hadn’t shied away from killing a Muncher, but a gun? Not so much. Nell leaned back in her chair.

“You might wanna grab it with both hands. That’s a Glock 18. She has a mean kick,” you did what you were told. The thought crossed your mind to give Simon the gun, but it was just a faint idea in the back of your head, wrestled down by the terror and desperation you felt right now. You were unable to form any clear thought, really, so when Nell ordered you calmly to put the gun on her, you just did.

“Well, now you maybe wanna aim a bit lower, you know, since she will pull up when you squeeze the trigger and you will shoot over my head instead of into it, and you don’t want that, amirite?”

“Nell, please,” she glared at Simon who had dared to speak up again. This was some sort of game that Simon and Nell knew how to play, but you didn’t. You couldn’t help it. You started to cry. Nell kept on talking you to the process of shooting her with that teacher tone you heard a lot from her and Negan.

“So be mindful of the trigger safety, just put your index finger right in the center and then you pull rearward,” she watched your process with interest. When the little tab folded into the trigger she looked satisfied and opened her arms. “That’s it, honey. Ready to shoot.”

You tried to calm your breathing down, tried to stop the tears from running. Your sight was blurry, your hands were shaking, your heart pounded hard against your sternum. It was too much. With a slump, you broke down in your chair. The gun clattered somewhere next to you on the ground and you dissolved in sobs and tears.

“That’s what I thought,” Nell said next to you. She picked up the gun and looked down on you in a mix of disgust and pity. Suddenly the walkie on her side crackled. It was a voice you couldn’t quite place, maybe Laura.

“Negan’s back,” Nell made an approving sound.

“You filled him in?”

“Yeah, he’s on his way up. He’s,” there was a pause. “We should keep the people out of his hair for a while,” Nell chuckled to that.

“Oh, he will find a way to blow it off,” she sing-songed with a wicked grin to Simon. Then she put the walkie back and sauntered over to him who just glared into the air in front of him. She put an arm around his chest from behind and her chin on his shoulder.

“If this is the last time we talk, just let me tell you I really dug your style, and the things you pull off when you’re in action, but boy are you one stupid son of a bitch. But between you and me,” her lips ghosted over his earlobe and he tried to turn his head away with a disgusted face. “I really hope this isn’t the last time we talk,” she got up abruptly, clapped his upper arms jovial and looked to the door expectantly. It didn’t take long until Negan ripped the door open. The whole tension in the room sort of shifted into something else, something more primal and cold. You could feel it in your spine, crawling in your arms and legs right under your skin. Your eyes fell to your lap and you tried to stifle your tears. The heavy sigh that came out of Negan sounded almost sad. You didn’t dare to look up if the description fit. You could hear the familiar rustle of his leather jacket when he took it off, the slap of leather on plastic when he threw it on the table, a softer thud when his glove followed.

“You sure what you saw?” he asked coldly and flatly, probably Nell.

“Caught ‘em with his trousers around his ankles balls deep in your old lady,” she sounded provocatively cheerful. Nell and Negan got at each other on a regular basis, the wives probably the only people knowing exactly how heated their arguments could get, and you wouldn’t be surprised if that was her looking for a fight to antagonize him even more, to make it worse for Simon. You shot a quick look to him. He sat upright with no expression, but you could tell it was forced and tense. He put on his brave face.

Negan stood a little behind of him, not deigning to look at you. He glared down at Simon, his face a clenched fist, with Lucille in his hand. He had grabbed her tight enough the veins on his arms protruded and his knuckles turned white. After a while, he palmed his beard, turned around and stepped a step back.

“One rule,” he said over his shoulder, his voice loud and commanding. “There is but one rule when it comes down to the wives. One rule and you two had to go and fucking break it,” he walked to the head of the table, put Lucille down gently and leaned forward, bracing himself on the top with his hands. “And you do this now? After I just decided to give you a second chance? Making me look like a fucking fool in front of the whole fucking Sanctuary? In front of my sister? Oh, you have no idea in how much trouble you are,” he slowly moved his eyes to you like a predator would look over to its prey. Your eyes fell back in your lap. “And you?” he clicked his tongue. “I remember when we found you and your group. You were one dirty, skinny little thing, barely alive. After everything I’ve done for you, that I gave to you, that is how you thank me?” Simon somehow scoffed and Negan’s eyes snapped back to him. Simon stared at him aggressively and a wide grin appeared on Negan’s face.

“Now that’s the Simon we know and love,” he sniggered.

“Please,” your voice was small, distorted and husky from crying. “It was only me. I made a mistake. I seduced him. It wasn’t his fault. Please don’t kill him,” Negan raised an eyebrow to your surprising outburst. You were surprised, too, that you had managed to press out the words.

“Huh,” was his reaction. He shared a look with Nell who just shrugged. “Maybe Y/N and I should have a little talk in private. Get up,” your body was just obeying the order more than anything else. Negan gestured between Simon and Nell. “Keep an eye on him,” Nell mock saluted and grinned down at Simon who watched you leaving the war room after Negan with a worried frown. With your head hanging low you followed him up the stairs to the quarters that had been your home for the past 11 months. Tanya, who was the only one knowing about your thing with Simon, was the only one who interpreted the situation correctly and stared shocked and wide-eyed at you and Negan. The man ignored his other four wives and led you to his bedroom.

“Close the door, doll,” he said. “Sit down,” he gestured to the bed. He sauntered to his liquor cabinet, poured himself a generous glass full of amber liquid and took a hard swig. He swirled it in his mouth thoughtfully before he swallowed. “You wanna repeat what you just said there, sweetheart?” his tone sounded neutral. He wasn’t looking at you. He rather looked out of the window down on the dirty yard.

“I seduced him. He didn’t want at first. It was the only time. I swear,” you weren’t bad at lying, in fact, you were quite good at it. It had kept you alive, this was your first survival skill, but you could tell, he didn’t believe you. He walked over, got on his knees in front of you and pulled you bit closer by your thighs. Even kneeling he was still as tall as you. He studied your face with furrowed brows and cold eyes.

“Sshhh, doll, you don’t have to be afraid. I won’t hurt you,” he said softly and pulled you against his chest. You knew that Negan was a sociopath, sadistic and brutal and that he enjoyed killing people, but he never laid hand on you or the others, he never hurt you in any way, so you actually believed him on that. “But the thing is,” he said now close to your ear. “I don’t quite believe that. So tell me, how long is this going on, hm?” you tensed impossibly more. He shushed you again. You couldn’t answer. “It’s alright. I get it. You are kind and soft, you don’t want him to get hurt, I know that, but thing is,” he pulled away and looked at you. “Lying won’t save him. I’m afraid at this point nothing can save him,” he rose his voice gradually. “So have the fucking courtesy, to be honest with me at least,” you flinched to the sudden yelling. He shushed you another time and took your face in one hand. His thump glided along your cheekbone. You swallowed heavily.

“Two months,” you could see his face getting hard on that. “But I still initiated it. I wasn’t thinking,” Negan scoffed.

“Well doll, I think we can fucking agree that none of you were thinking with your brains, and one of you was thinking with his dick. What am I gonna do with you?”

“Please, I’m sorry. I made a mistake,” begging was the only option left.

“Are you now,” he sighed and put his forehead against yours “You were always my favorite, you know that, right? I can't really stay mad at you,” despite how fucked up the situation was you felt some of the tension leave your body. Negan suddenly kissed you and although this was the last thing you wanted to do right now you surrendered into the kiss and let his tongue in your mouth. Maybe you could soften him up enough to let Simon live, to just give him the iron. He needed him to run everything smoothly after all. Negan kissed you harder and with a possessive growl he grabbed you by your thighs when he got up and threw you on the bed. He was over you in a heartbeat. You didn’t feel turned on, not one bit when he mouthed along your neck and down your collarbone, but you just went with it. You were good at pretending after all. While it was true that Negan was good in bed, he wasn’t what you would call a considerate lover. He was selfish from the beginning to the end, his desire the only thing that counted, leaving you high and dry more often than not. You opened your legs, welcoming him between them. He pressed his growing bulge against you.

“Go ahead,” he ordered you with a little jerk to his groin and you dutifully opened his belt and freed his hard and leaking dick from his restraint. You know that this wouldn’t take long. This wasn’t about pleasure. This was Negan reclaiming his property, washing Simon off of you since he had to be aware that the other man had been all over you just a couple of hours ago. Your panties were already ruined by Simon earlier and he had no problem ripping them off completely. Negan spit on his hand and reached between your legs, at least giving you an illusion of preparation, before he pushed himself inside you with one sharp thrust. Your body betrayed you. Maybe it was the adrenaline, the danger of the whole situation, the fact that you were still sensitive from the sex you had earlier, but the moan that escaped your mouth was real. He set a hard and fast pace, slamming into you relentlessly, making you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing you to take rugged breaths between the little cries and moans his jabs elicited.

“Who do you belong to,” he panted in your ears.

“To you,” you breathed out.

“Say it. I wanna hear it,” he growled, speeding up the pace. You were close, and he was, too.

“Negan, I belong to you. I belong to Negan. I’m yours,” the word felt out of your mouth without passing your brain and you felt a jolt of guilt betraying Simon like that. Negan’s thrusts became erratic and not for long he spilled inside you with a groan. The feeling of heat, impossible warmer than you were already, sent you over as well. Negan fell down on you, crushing you with his weight and he slipped out of you leaving a mess of his cum and your juices in his wake. After a while, he pushed himself up and away from you, grabbed a box of tissues and cleaned himself before he put his dick back in his pants. He looked down on you with a frown.

“Clean yourself up,” he said with a head jerk to his little bathroom. He didn’t seem to be as angry as he had been before, but you could tell that you weren’t off the hook yet. You scooted into the washroom quickly and looked in the mirror. You were a mess. Your hair was all over the place, your face was flushed and still swollen from your crying, you dress was crinkled and dusty from the armory. You made yourself as presentable as you could without taking a shower. When you walked out Negan sat on his couch, his drink in hand and motioned to sit down. He looked at you rather softly.

“You wanna go back downstairs, wanna go back to earn points, all you have to do is ask,” he said, and you looked up.

“No, I don’t,” you said softly. You felt sick to your stomach admitting it, but it was true. He kept looking at you with a little frown like he was searching for something in your face not quite knowing himself what.

“I'm sorry, but I can let him get away with this, you know that right?” he almost sounded sad. Like he meant the apology. “Maybe if he hadn’t killed all those kids, then I might consider letting him off easy, but after this? He knows the rules. You know the rules. You both know what you fucking signed up for,” you couldn’t help, you started crying again.

“Please, I’ll do anything – “ these words were a mistake. Negan squinted his eyes and some sort of transition took place, subtle, but you could feel it. Whatever happened behind these cold, hazel brown eyes, it wasn’t good. Every emotion left his face and he looked at you now with a blank mask.

“Oh doll, I wish you hadn’t said that,” with that, he got up, grabbed your upper arm hard and dragged you out of the room. The other girls jumped up by the sudden intrusion and watched helplessly when he pulled you out and down the stairs back into the war room. He nearly threw you inside, right into Gary who caught you out of reflex. He looked at Negan irritated, but then just restrained you from behind. Simon looked up startled. He gave you a once over. You still looked disheveled and there was no denying what you and Negan had been doing. Disappointment crawled up in his face and he pressed his lips together.

“Well, Simon. Looks like Y/N and you got yourselves into a full-on Shakespearian situation, and we all know how these fucking stories end,” he swung Lucille around and for a second you thought he would end Simon right here and now. “And since she has a hard time understanding whom she belongs to, let's make it clear for her once and for all. Nell?” the woman perked up. “He’s all yours, take your time. Call me when it’s time to put him down. What left of him goes on the fence,” he snorted at a shocked looking Simon and already walked out.

“What about her?” Nell called after him. She looked rather happy now.

“Make her watch,” Negan said without turning around.


	3. Chapter 3

“Aw sugar, I think I did you a favor here,” Nell mumbled. She examined one of Simon’s molars closely under the dirty shine of a naked lightbulb. Then she turned around with a sigh and let it drop into your open, shaking hand, leaving it in the company of three others. “Anyway, back to it, shall we?”

You cried silently. Simon had given up screaming somewhere around the time you gave up pleading. It had fallen on deaf ears anyway. He was only able to produce soft whimpers and groans, even now, when Nell pulled on yet another tooth. She was patient. Instead of dragging with force she loosened it slowly and meticulously, prolonging Simon’s suffering and her pleasure. Oh, she was enjoying this, and she made no secret about it. With a triumphant “Ha!” she pulled it out and gave it the same examination as the others.

“Overall I have to admit you have a nice set of ivories,” the pliers she used landed on the table. With a thoughtful frown, she looked down on the bloody, broken mess that was Simon. He was slumped in his chair, his hands bound to the armrests, his head lolling forward, the hair clinging to his head, wet from sweat and blood. A string of blood and saliva was slowly running out of his open mouth that pressed out raspy breaths. There was a wet rattle in his chest ever since Nell had repeatedly punched in his sternum. She could hit surprisingly hard, a dark bruise in the middle of his chest was proof of that. She had nearly killed him there, the trauma collapsed one of his lungs. Nell hadn’t allowed him to die. Instead, she had called Carson who, with a shocked face and trembling close to panic, had done something, you weren’t sure what, to save him, to extend his life.

“You ain’t die on me now, darlin’, not yet,” she had cheered. The words still rang in your head.    

This had been going on for two days. You sat handcuffed to a chair in some shed in the backyard of the Sanctuary, away from the people, somewhere more private. You didn’t have to see all of it. You were still a wife. She treated you good. Considering. She gave you breaks that you spent in a small room with barred windows and a cot, a cell. Simon wasn’t so lucky.

Nell was currently sitting down on the table and slowly, but determined put her boots on both of Simon’s hands. His fingers were either broken or dislocated, she had burned off the tips with a blowtorch, his fingernails had been pulled out. That was the first time Simon had screamed. He moaned lowly to the pain and laboriously lifted his head. Bloodshot, empty eyes stared at her. Nell put on a bright smile.

“Well, you have been a wonderful dance partner, but I believe our time is coming to an end,” she suddenly pulled her feet away and jumped from the table. Then she crawled in Simon’s lap like he was some sort of bloody, beaten and cut up Santa Claus. 

“I’m gonna tell you something,” she said softly. “Because you played along so nicely and made all the right noises that got me all excited and tingly I’m gonna convince my brother to end you properly. What do you say, hm? A nice, shallow unmarked grave somewhere in the woods instead moaning and hissing on the fence till you fall apart,” he stared at her. He looked actually grateful, which was fucked up, but you felt grateful as well. “So I will leave you sitting here for a while now, reminiscing about the colorful life you lived and the asinine life-choices you made,” she gave you a pointed look. “And then I will bring my brother in my little club-house here showing him my handiwork. I ain’t gonna lie, cutting that nice pattern in your back gave me blisters, but I am damn proud of how it turned out. It’s my masterpiece if I do say so myself,” she patted his cheek a little. “But before all of that, one last thing,” she got up and studied her “toys”, a smorgasbord of knives, pliers, needles, torches, nails, and a nail gun she had used excessively on Simon’s shoulder blades. With a little, pleased sound she picked up a spoon.

“I always wanna try that,” she chirmed, twirled around, climbed in the chair with one knee, pressing it hard in Simon’s groin, and pulled his head back by his hair. “Open ‘em wide, would you?” she sing-songed, the spoon already hovering over Simon’s left eye.

“No,” you screamed out. You hadn’t said anything for the past three or four hours, you had just been sitting there crying, holding the tools and teeth she had given you and your outburst didn’t stay unacknowledged. Nell turned to you.

“Oh it speaks, well, despite Y/N’s veto, let's proceed,” she pushed the wide side of the bowl under his lower eyelid and Simon made a sound between a cry and a cough. Before she could push it in more, spooning out the eyeball, Negan’s voice crackled out of her walkie.

“Nell, you got a minute?” she sighed overdramatically.

“Cockblocker,” she mumbled. She pulled the spoon away and fished for the walkie on the table. “What is it, I’m kind of in the middle of something,” she sounded annoyed.

“Step out of Simon’s chest cavity and get your ass here ASAP. We have a problem with a group, shot a couple of our guys up. I need you to go there and show ‘em who’s boss,” something lighter appeared on Nell's face, the prospect of killing some random people consoling her over the fact that Simon’s blinding had to wait.

“Be right there,” she said in the walkie. Then she breathed a kiss on Simon’s bloody lips, a barely-there touch. “To be continued, buttercup.”

She discarded the spoon carelessly on her workbench.

“Come on kiddo, time for a break,” she unfastened your handcuffs and pulled you up on your forearm. You walked next to her without resistance. You know the way to your little cell. Before she closed the door she flipped Simon’s tooth to you that she had kept in her pocket. “You can keep ‘em. A little memento of the man that was so foolish to fall in love with you little vixen,” she winked and slammed the door shut. Without much preamble you dropped on the cot, staring at the bloody teeth in your hand. It was surprising that there still were tears in you, but one landed heavily on one of the teeth now. In between sessions of unadulterated and inhibited torture, Nell had talked. Most of it had been graphic descriptions of what’s to come for Simon in a conversational, nearly emotionless tone that had gone down to your core and left a stale aftertaste. The other part was solely meant to get under Simon’s skin, and yours, in a whole different way, to question the whole nature of his relationship with you, to make him regret and see the errs of his way, to make him understand what this really had been, what you really had done. You didn’t love him, never had, but he loved you. And you had been aware of it. You wouldn’t have gone and thrown yourself at him if you hadn’t known about his crush if you hadn’t been conscious of the lingering looks he gave you, the almost shy smiles. If you had been a random wife who he hadn’t given a damn about, he would have just pushed you away, but he had given in. And you had played on it, you had used it, you had relied on it, because what was the worst that could have happened to you? Not for one second when you snuck into his room that one night eight weeks ago you had thought about the potential consequences for him. Sure, they had crossed your mind from time to time during your secret affair, but it only accelerated the excitement, increased the thrill. You had been selfish. You wanted Simon, but you didn’t need him. You had been dumb. There had been no way this wasn’t coming out at some point. You were a murderer. You killed Simon the second he surrendered into your first kiss. And Simon knew all of that now, too. You had seen it in his eyes. The shame. The anger. The frustration. The regret.

How Nell had figured out all of this you couldn't even begin to understand and it made you wonder if she might know about you and Simon for longer than she let on. 

Someone ripped the door open and dragged you out of your brooding thoughts. You didn’t know how long you had been sitting here, but it was already dark outside. All you could see was a silhouette of a rather chubby man, and you suddenly felt sick.

“Hello Princess,” you hated David. David was a bastard through and through. He always looked at you with that lewd smile in his unwashed, sweaty pig face and he wore what he was thinking about you and the other girls right there on his forehead. Now he came in with a little tray in his hand. He usually brought you your food, but all the other times Nell had been there somewhere, maybe busy with ripping skin from Simons’ back, but very much around. This time the other person in the shed only sat upright in his chair because Nell had tied him to it. David put the tray on the bed and sat next to you. You scooted away, and he grinned at you dirty.

“Aw sweetheart, don't be shy,” he grabbed your wrist. You scratched his face. It was a reflex, really. Panned up frustration, fear, and adrenaline, not a conscious decision. The scratches were deep, three parallel lines on his cheek, one was bleeding heavily. And he was angry.

“You little bitch,” he snarled, clutched you by both upper arms and threw you on the bed. He already was above you and tore on the short Nell had given you. Everything happened so fast you couldn’t even think. Suddenly there was a shot, impossible loud in the tiny room, and something warm splattered on your face. David slumped onto you. He was heavy. You tried to push him away, but you couldn’t. Someone dragged him down from you. You crawled to the end of the cot, pressed yourself in the corner with your legs pressed on your chest. Dwight looked down on the dead man and let one hand run through his hair. He still held the gun in the other.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

“Dude what the hell,” it was Gary. He stood in the doorway and looked down on the carnage.

“He was all over her,” Dwight stated, and Gary looked between you and David’s body a couple of times. “How do we explain that, huh?” he sounded desperate. You had no idea what was going on. Gary palmed his face.

“I don’t know. She overwhelmed him and shot him?”

“In the back of his head?” Gary rolled his eyes, walked over to David’s body, and rolled him on his back with some effort. He relieved him from his gun and shot him in the chest. You and Dwight looked at him wide-eyed.

“He tried to rape her, she got a hold on his gun, shot him in the chest and was then mindful enough to shoot him in the head. She and Simon got away. End of story,” he stated when he removed a second bullet out of the revolver David had carried and put it in his pocket. Then he threw the gun next to him. “Roll him back on his stomach, and you get up,” he was talking to you.

“What’s going on?” you asked confused. Gary wasn’t answering, instead, he decided that this took too long and just pulled you up on your feet by your arm. He proceeded to drag you out of the room. Keno was hovering over Simon, trying to force some water down his throat. “What are you doing?”

“Make an educated guess,” Gary just snapped. Suddenly he pressed a bundle in your arms. “You might wanna put on some shoes and proper clothes. It’s pretty cold,” he left you standing there and waltzed to Simon to help Keno. Were there cutting him loose? You looked around. Arat was standing guard. She nervously loitered in the door and kept an eye on the outside world. She turned around and looked at you.

“What are you waiting for? Put ‘em on,” she urged with an impatient eye roll. You did what you were told. It was your Jeans and your shoes, and you vaguely wondered who had given them to them. Dwight had joined the two others who had managed to put Simon in a loose black shirt and heaved him out of the chair. He slumped right back. Simon was tall and heavy, and Gary and Dwight had a hard time pulling him up and securing him over their shoulders. Simon made a hesitant step and stifled a groan when he tried to put weight on his right leg. He nearly buckled.

“She put a nail in his foot, nails, she pulled them out again,” you heard yourself say. Gary cursed.

“Come on, let’s go,” he urged the others. “Walk it off,” Simon managed a huff that turned into a cough. They hobbled painfully slow out of the shed and around it. You followed still in some sort of haze. This was obviously a rescue mission, and you couldn’t believe it. In fact, you didn’t want to. This was stupid. You would never get away with it. Neither of you. But you didn’t protest. They nearly lifted Simon through a hole in the fence into some overgrown meadow that had been a playground at some point, and you made a short, but slow journey into a back alley. Laura was waiting by a truck.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“Not we, you. Someone needs to drive. You got him into this bullshit. You’ll get him out,” Gary snapped. With combined strength, they manhandled Simon into the passenger seat.

“Don’t” he slurred. Gary paused. “Bring me back,” he managed to press out.

“What?”

“I’m dead already. She will kill you, too. Bring me back,” his voice was hoarse and strained and he dissolved into a coughing fit.

“Nope,” Gary slammed the door shut and sort of pushed you to the driver door. “The tank is full, there are two canisters in the back. Should be enough for a while. Just drive North, the I495 and 270 are clear for at least 200 miles, at least it was last month. Negan and that psychopath don’t know you have a car and we sent her on a wild goose chase. They won’t know that you’re gone until tomorrow and they won’t think that you've gone far. Just press forward, as far away from here as possible. Don’t stop. Not even to tend to his wounds. Then maybe you two have a chance. There are supplies in there, some food for a couple of days, water and stuff to patch up Simon. Not as much as we hoped, but will have to do. Now go,” you stared at him. “Go!” he nearly yelled. That sent you in motion. You shot Gary and the others one last look while you fumbled with the ignition. The car started with the first turn of the key. Simon was crumpled against the door. He currently grabbed two of his fingers with a shaking hand and pulled on them hard. The sickening crunch of reduced bones was loud in the driver cabin. You hit the gas. Drive as far away from here as possible, then maybe you have a chance. Simon next to you breathed heavily while he proceeded to straighten his fingers as best as he could. When he was done he sunk into himself with a heavy sigh. You and Simon against the world, the last person he wanted to be with right now.


	4. Chapter 4

The urge to speed was strong, but you still had your common senses left. It was an overcast night and in a lack of any artificial light emission, it meant it was pitch black. Gary had been right, though, the interstate was free, of debris at least, but you were able to dodge the occasional roamer easy enough. As long as you wouldn’t run into a herd, you probably would be fine. That didn’t mean you weren’t on high alert. The last thing you and Simon needed right now was you crashing the car. So you didn’t dare to go faster than 35 miles per hour, most of the times you stayed well below. That meant that in the past 5 hours you only covered a bit over 120 miles. Every time your eyes flicked to the rearview mirror you half expected to see the headlights of another car, but they never came. The only company you had were your racing thoughts and Simon’s raspy breathing. He either was unconscious or asleep, you hoped the latter, and had barely moved at all. You had the impression the rattling in his chest had improved the past hours, but it very well may be only wishful thinking. Anyhow, Simon needed medical attention as soon as possible, so although you still were rather close to the Sanctuary you would need to find a place to patch him up eventually. A plan had formed in your head. You know the area well. You had grown up here after all, and the cabin in your mind was only 50 miles from your current position. It was remote, hard to find even when you know where to look, at the end of a maze of dirt roads and dead ends. For you, those parts of the woods were as familiar as the back of your hand, but you doubted the same could be said for most of the Saviors. All you needed was a day or two, to dress up Simon’s wounds, let him get some proper rest, maybe feed him a half decent meal from the provision Gary and the others had packed for you, and then press forward in the cover of the night on badly charted backroads. It was a calculated risk, and when you approached the right exit you took it. For once you lucked out and the country road seemed to be free as well. You were hyperfocused on the badly illuminated stretch in front of you, so you nearly jerked the wheel when Simon next to you suddenly said something.

“Where are we?” his voice was soft and breathy, and he coughed again. It _did_ sound less painful than before. You shot him a quick look. His half-lid eyes wandered around aimlessly and unfocused like he was drunk. He had a hard time to keep them open.

“Roughly 140 miles from the Sanctuary, in Pennsylvania,” you said. Simon sighed and closed his eyes again. You were halfway there to think he was out again when he opened his mouth.

“That’s way too close. They’ll find us,” it was a statement, a matter of fact. A change in position made him groan lowly. You reached behind the passenger seat and fumbled around blindly until your hand found the water bottle you had discarded there earlier. Simon looked down on it for a second after you had nudged him carefully and finally took it with unsteady fingers.

“I have a plan,” you said. You tried to convey confidence in your voice, but you didn’t quite manage to. Simon next to you smiled around the neck of the bottle.

“Of course you do,” even in his current condition, he sounded sarcastic. You suddenly were angry at him.

“Cut me some slack. I’m trying here. I didn’t ask for any of this,” you snapped. You didn’t mean to, but you were on edge and close on running on fumes. That cell hadn’t been exactly a spa. You hadn’t slept in days. Not to mention that you were scared out of your wits and way over your head here. Simon scoffed.

“Believe me kid, me neither,” he muttered. “Doesn’t mean we don’t deserve it,” with that the conversation obviously ended on Simon’s part, because he turned to the left, showing you a cold shoulder, literally. You pressed your lips together, swallowing a remark that would only sound bitchy and immature. He was right, though, and you knew it.

Three hours and two deadlocks later you found what you had been looking for. You gave the small cabin a careful survey from the safety of the car. It looked eerie in the pale morning light, dark and damp, partially overgrown by ivy, and with the occasional waft of mist drifting by, but the roof and the windows were intact, and it looked empty and inhabited, pretty much the same as it had looked when you left it over a year ago. You shut the engine and climbed in the back seat. You hoped Gary had packed you some kind of weapon and you finally found them in a duffle that seemed to contain a change of clothes for Simon. You let the gun where it was and grabbed the machete. Simon eyed you wearily through heavy lashes. He seemed a bit more alert than earlier.

“Be careful,” he mumbled when you opened the door, not quite making eye contact. The woods around you were quiet except for the drip of morning dew and the hysterical flutter of a startled bird somewhere above you. You hit the bumper of your car three times with the grip of the machete and just waited. You didn’t need to wait long. Two of the dead stumbled onto the little clearing and towards you with ugly snarls and uglier grimaces around their obscenely wide open yaps. You were out of practice, but you put them down with relative ease. The cabin was next. It took some effort to pull open the door that was warped by moisture and non-use, and you nearly fell backward when it finally gave in. It was empty. You stepped in and looked around. Nothing had changed except that now everything was covered in a rather thick layer of dust, but it didn’t look like anybody had been in here for a very long time. You let out a relieved breath. If that meant that you indeed had been the last person here there still were some supplies left. You had only taken with you what you could carry at the time, and your priority had been the little food that you had left.

“What is this place?” Simon asked an hour later from where he was sitting on the folding couch that could function as a bed. The bedding was currently airing outside, although you doubted that you would get the smell of must out of it. Getting him in here had been easier than you had anticipated. He walked most of it on his own. He generally seemed to be in a better shape you initially had thought. And it was logical when you thought about it. Nell hadn’t wanted to kill him. She had wanted to hurt him, and she could have kept going for days. She probably just got bored. His back was the worst, though, but most of the cuts already had scabbed over and only a couple of the patches that were simply flayed looked slightly infected and were weeping. It looked like she had very carefully made sure only to remove the first two layers of skin. You had cleaned them the best you could. He couldn’t lift his left arm and the shoulder was somehow swollen. Nell had put three nails from a nail gun into the shoulder blade and pulled them out again. Chances were high it was shattered, but you couldn’t do more than immobilize it with a sort of sling. You were boiling another batch of water in the little fireplace of the cabin to clean the wounds at his feet and weren’t answering for a while.

“This was my father’s hunting cabin,” you said into the flames. “He, my sister and I hunkered down here the first months after the outbreak,” you didn’t go on to tell what happened, and he didn’t ask. He didn’t have to. The story was always the same. People died. You pulled the pot out of the flame and put it aside to cool down.

“You can’t stay here,” Simon said somewhere behind you.

“You mean we,” you answered in a defiant tone. Simon sighed.

“How much gas do you have left?”

“Quarter tank, and two 5-gallon canisters.”

“Jesus,” he mumbled. You looked over to him. “No way in hell she won’t find out who helped us,” he said tonelessly. His eyes snapped to you. “You should go back.”

“What?”

“Nell might be pissed, but Negan will take you back,” you couldn’t really believe what you heard here. “Tell him it was my idea, I don’t care. Tell him I died. Dish him some lies. That’s what you’re good at after all,” that wasn’t an accidental slip of an insensitive remark, it was a jab in your face, delivered with a steady aim and a bitter voice. You pressed your lips together and stared in the flames. There was a heavy, uncomfortable silence between you that lasted a million years. After you made sure the water was just timid you picked up the pot and a clean rack and walked over to him mechanically. He stared at you a little annoyed when you started to clean the blood and some puss from the wounds on his feet, but he let you do it. He didn’t really have a choice anyway. Just because he was sitting here upright, alert and sound of mind didn’t mean you weren't way stronger than him right now.

“You know you didn’t owe me. You don’t have to be here just because you feel guilty,” he said softly above you when you started to wrap a bandage around his left foot. You looked up. “Just go back.”

“I can’t,” you said. “I don’t want to,” he snorted. It was an ugly sound.

“Look, just because you can knife a couple of the dead when they come at you one after the other or start a fire doesn’t mean you can survive out here and I can’t fucking protect you. Not now, not anymore. Negan can,” you frowned about the not anymore, but you also felt the anger stirring up again.

“I don’t need you to protect me,” even you didn’t quite believe you here. Simon scoffed dismissively.

“Yeah, so how many roamers you think you can handle? Five? Ten? You can’t even use a gun, showed that quite impressively the other day. And what if some strangers show up here, what then? You gonna offer to sleep with you, too, like you always do?” you slapped him. At least you tried. He caught your arm by your wrist. Despite his broken fingers, he grabbed you rather tightly. It actually hurt.

“Let me go,” you pressed out. With a scoff, he gave you a little shove and sent you from your kneeling position on your ass. He shook his head.

“When the Saviors find us here, when Nell finds us here, we are both dead. When you go back now on your own accord, tell him you are sorry, beg him to forgive you, he will. It’s not like any of us has a lot of dignity left at this point.”

“You don’t mean that. I don’t just leave you here to die,” you said flatly. Simon rolled his eyes.

“Are you being stupid on purpose? I’m dead anyway. It doesn’t matter if I die here alone in the woods or by the hand of that crazy bitch or because Negan bashes my skull in. There is no happy end here for me. I don’t know what got into Gary and the others, but it was stupid. But it doesn’t mean you have to die, too. You’ve been egoistic, self-centered and opportunistic the whole time, don’t stop on my account now. And just to make one thing clear here, there is no me and you. I don’t even want you around, so just do the right thing and leave me alone. Save yourself,” you felt tears well up. Simon’s words hurt deeply, and the worst was that you were convinced that he meant them, that he didn’t just say them to push you away.

“I’m tired,” he suddenly said. You watched him laying down and finding laboriously a half-comfortable position on his side with his back to you. “If you’re smart you are not here anymore when I wake up,” he said towards the wooden wall. You stared at the bloody rack in your hand and let it drop in the pot after a while. After you had cleaned up the first aid supplies you sat down on a chair in the little seating area. You felt dead tired, sad, hurt, disappointed, guilty, scared, all at once.

“You know Simon, I don’t think you are being fair here,” you said softly with a husky voice. You weren’t sure he even heard you.

“I really don’t care anymore what you think,”  he answered coldly.

 


	5. Chapter 5

You weren’t smart. You still were there when he woke up. His reaction to that was giving you a long reproachful look and the silent treatment. Somehow that felt worse than him snapping at you and rather immature. It pissed you off. You did the only thing you could think off, being useful. So you gathered the supplies that you had, everything from the truck and the remaining stuff in the cabin and were now staring at the little pile with a frown ignoring the kinks in your back. The people in the Sanctuary had one thing right, the wives were spoiled. You had slept the last 11 months on a very comfortable mattress, not on a camping mat on the ground. Six or seven hours of unrestful tossing around had been a sad excuse for real sleep, but it would have to do. It wasn’t like you were sleeping much in the first place.

You had quite some food. Considering. Reason being that none of you ate anything. You weren’t hungry. Simon simply refused. That pissed you off, too. The food would last for a while, maybe two weeks, when you rationed it carefully. Simon might think otherwise, but you weren’t completely useless out here. Rationing, keeping track, organizing, that was your strengths. You just weren’t good at confrontations. You stared at the gun. It looked like the one Nell had, just a bit smaller maybe. It was lighter, too.

“You ever shoot one of those?” Simon’s voice was flat. You turned around. He leaned against the wall with one knee pulled up and looked at you over the crook of his nose through heavy lids.

“No,” you said softly. He made a come here gesture with his hand. Part of you wanted to refuse, pout the way he had all day, but at this point, you would take anything you could get from him. You sat on the edge of the couch, and Simon took the gun.

“You even had one of those in your hands? I mean before three days ago?” you shook your head. Simon sighed, maybe a little exasperated, but mostly he sounded tired.

“It’s an easier model than Nell’s. A child can use it. Loading’s a bit tricky,” he showed you how to release the mag. “19 bullets, 18 in the mag, one in the chamber. 9mm, I’m sure Gary was insightful enough to equip us with a box of those,” he sounded bitter when he said that. He released the bullet out of the chamber and then five out of the magazine. You were surprised how steady his fingers were. His pain threshold had to be unheard of. “You take the cartridge, put it like this in a 90-degree angle against the one already in the chamber, you press it down with both thumbs,” you followed every move he made attentively. “And then you spiral it right back in. Got it?” he looked at you expectantly, and you nodded. Then he repeated his instructions two times. The next two were your turn. You managed to get them in with a bit of fumbling, but Simon seemed to be satisfied. “Good, now push the mag in and pull the slide back and forth. You heard the click?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s one in the chamber again. Release the mag, top it of, push it back in, there you go. 19 rounds, alright,” he rubbed one eyebrow. He had washed up earlier and looked almost normal again. Although he was very pale, and his left eye was bloodshot and swollen. He caught you staring at him. “Focus,” your eyes snapped back at the gun. “There’s no on-off switch on a Glock, it has trigger safety like the one Nell had. Alright? You take it in both hands, you press the trigger safety in and you are ready to go. Aim at the chest. Three shots will stop everything, even a roamer. At least in the last case, it will give you enough time to take to your heels. Try to keep track of how many times you shot when you have to use it. You will keep it with you all the time, okay? But only use it as a last resort kind of thing,” his tone was urgent. There was something worrisome in the way he just taught you “Glock 101”. It had something final.

“You should have it,” you said softly.

“No, you’ll keep it,” he closed his eyes again and leaned his head on the wall. With a humorless chuckle, he shook it. “That’s stupid,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, hit me. What’s the plan here?” you looked up from where you had stared down at the gun in your hands. This came a bit out of nowhere.

“What?” Simon sighed again and opened his eyes slowly. He was a reluctant doing so, but he looked you in the eyes.

“What do you have in mind how this glorious escape will continue? I admit it would be incredible luck if they stumble over us here, but we can’t stay here forever,” he gave the little heap of supplies on the table a pointed look. “So do tell!”

“I,” you started. Truth was, there was no real plan. “I don’t know,” there was the sarcastic scoff again.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Can you give me a break here?” you said softly. You wanted to snap, maybe scream and yell a little, even cry, but you didn’t have it in you, not anymore. You were cooped in here with Simon, in this whole situation neither of you had wanted, but you both had maneuvered yourselves into. And now you were supposed to handle it on your own? All Simon was doing was making it deliberately worse, just because he could, just because he already settled his affairs. “I know you don’t want to be here with me. You made that clear enough earlier. But I won’t just leave you here to die, and I won’t go back to Negan. I just won’t, no matter what you say. And I don’t just feel obligated because I feel guilty. I don’t want you to die, don’t you get it? I don’t want to die either. We have a chance here. But that chance is worthless when you are not even trying,” you said bitterly. Simon wasn’t answering. He just stared somewhere in the distance with an empty expression. “I need your help. Because if you want it or not, we _are_ in this together, no matter how much you hate me right now,” suddenly his eyes snapped to you. A little frown appeared between his eyebrows.

“Jesus, I don’t hate you,” he said. He sounded even a little offended. “Why would I hate you? I could never. This mess isn’t your fault,” he paused for a second. “Isn't entirely your fault. But you are not even responsible for half of it. You didn’t force me to sleep with you. If you really think that you have a very exaggerated opinion about your own seductiveness,” surprisingly enough that didn’t sound like another slap in your face, but nearly like a joke. You frowned at him. “Look, I maybe was a bit harsh. In my defense, I am not feeling very well right now. I want you to go back because I don’t want you to die. Out here you will, no matter if I am with you or not. What is it you think I did the past 16 months? Or Nell? Gavin? Regina? We picked everything clean in a 250-mile radius. There is literally nowhere to go because there is nothing left. We won’t make it far enough out, not without using the interstates, and believe me, Negan’s there waiting for us. But even if we do by some off chance, what then, hm? Starve to death? Die from exposure? I mean have you seen me walk lately? We would be dead in a matter of hours. Maybe we luck out, run into a group that has a place somewhere and takes us in, how long do you think it will take and the Saviors get to them, too? This would be living off borrowed time and it will only have one outcome. It doesn’t have to end like that for you.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I rather be dead than be back at the Sanctuary again?” you snapped.

“You don’t mean that,” was his mumbled answer. The anger finally came out.

“You think I enjoy whoring myself out to Negan? You think I enjoy getting humiliated and belittled by him day by day? Do you think I am not aware of all the hate I get by every other person in the Sanctuary just because I ‘decided to take the easy way’? He threatened to kill every single one in the group I was in and then he offered me to spare them if I ‘marry’ him,” you nearly spat the word marry. Simon had raised an eyebrow. “Does that sound like free will to you? Like a choice? His favorite or not, I am scared all the time. Of him, of her, of every Savior and worker, even of the other wives,” you took a deep breath. “I am sorry that I led you on somehow. But it’s not that I don’t care for you, I do. A lot. You were the only person there who treated me like a human and not just like a piece of meat or some brainless, stupid ornament. So yeah, maybe it’s just a very protracted suicide, but I’d rather try my chances, as off as they may be, out there with you, than go back to that hellhole,” you lifted your gaze to Simon’s eyes. His looked rather soft now, and very sad. With a sigh, he suddenly reached out and pulled you against his chest. It came out of the blue, you were startled and a bit confused, but it took only a couple of seconds and you melted against him. You tried to make yourself smaller and hide from the world at least for a little while.

“Fine, then let’s do this,” pushing away from him felt like a chore, but you managed it anyway.

“Really?”

“For the record, I still think it’s stupid. But yeah, let’s do this or die trying, literally,” he smirked a bit. It wasn’t quite the smug one he usually wore, but it was a start. “Although we might wanna stay another day or two until I can manage more than a slow hobble, but after that,” he shrugged. A shy smile appeared on your face. You didn’t know if he wanted it, but you leaned forward a little and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips. After a second or two he closed his eyes and deepened it. For the first time in days you felt anything other than fear and despair, maybe something like hope. He pushed you away gently and studied your face.

“It’s getting dark. You should try to get some real sleep. I know you didn’t get much over there,” he made a head jerk to the spot in the corner where your camping mat was. You were exhausted, dead tired, really, and the thought to stretch out on the saggy folding bed was literal heaven all of the sudden. So you weren’t protesting when Simon just made you lie down. You weren’t either when he pulled you against his chest. You already drifted off. There was one thing, though.

“You should eat something,” Simon chuckled weakly.

“So do you. Let’s postpone this until tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you weren’t arguing. You couldn’t have even if you'd wanted to. Some time passed in silence, you didn’t know how much, but you nearly were asleep.

“I’m sorry,” Simon said suddenly above you. Softly, barely audible, and you had no idea what he just apologized for, but you couldn’t ask him to elaborate.

~

You woke up to the sun shining through the dirty windows giving the light a second-hand impression. There was the heavy tiredness in your bones that came with sleeping too long and judging by the stand of the sun it already had to be around noon. You must have slept more than 16 hours. It actually was your grumbling stomach that had woken you up, but suddenly all hunger was forgotten when cold rushed down your spine. Something was wrong. You nearly jerked upright. Simon wasn’t there, for starters. The whole cabin felt dead and empty and you got up on stumbling feet. Although you already knew what you would see your heart skipped a beat when you walked to the small window and looked out onto the clearing. The car was gone. You turned around slowly. Most of the supplies were, too. All that he left you were a couple of cans, the gun, the machete, and some random clatter. He even took your boots. You stared at the words he had written down in the thick layer of dust on the other end of the table and felt all your energy drain with every letter your eyes skimmed. Then you walked out of the cabin and sat down in the doorway with a heavy sigh staring at your hands. You waited for something. Maybe tears, maybe anger, but you felt nothing.

“I do this because I love you. It’s better that way. Just wait till they come to get you. I am sorry.”


	6. Chapter 6

You sat for a couple of hours in the door and stared into the dark woods toying with the idea of simply wandering off with no shoes and no supplies. How long would it take until the inevitable? Maybe a couple of hours? A day or two? The nights were pretty cold and damp, maybe it was enough to freeze to death. You could just lay down somewhere, close your eyes to never open them again. At least not as yourself. That was one of the two options Simon left you after all, wasn’t it? You knew you wouldn’t. You meant what you said to him yesterday, that you didn’t want to die. The most people alive today didn’t. They were resilient, survivors, even the ones shielded away like you had been so far. It needed a special kind of stomach to deal with the world as it was right now. The ones who hadn’t it were long dead already. There was no dignity in killing yourself, something that somehow had slipped Simon’s mind.

You felt a lot of conflicting emotions right now. You were angry at Simon for making your decisions for you and just taking off to his certain death, scared to go back there, terrified of the consequences, of Negan and his psycho sister, desperate and sad because Simon was probably dead by now, the only person you actually cared about and that cared about you. A fucked up little part of you felt kind of elated that he loved you, but what good did that get him? What had he been thinking?

One of the dead stumbled onto the clearing. It didn’t see you at first, but when it got a whiff of you it staggered closer, dragging one of its legs behind it. It had been some youngish woman, maybe 30, in a summer dress, now nothing more left that some tattered rags that did a bad job hiding the decaying body. You let it come quite close before you got up with a sigh, fetched the machete from the cabin and rammed it point first in its skull. For a while, you stared down at the remains. You wouldn’t be able to handle that, him, dead and rotting on the fence. Negan would probably rub it in. Nell, too.

It was the cold that shooed you inside and the painful hunger that forced you to eat some canned pasta that turned to ash in your mouth. Then you just lay down. What else was there to do? You still were tired and had no energy left, so you fell asleep easily. You stirred up in the dead of night, not quite sure what exactly had been the reason. The light was off. It took you a while until you realized that the cabin was illuminated by the headlights of a couple of trucks outside. It had been the thud of a closing car door that had woken you up, and the strange feeling that you weren’t alone in the room anymore.

“I know you’re awake,” you hadn’t expected Negan, things like that were underneath him, but you weren’t surprised Nell came personally. She was invested now. It took a moment for you to orientate yourself and find out where her voice had come from. She stood in a shadow by the table, seemingly staring down on it. “Strolled pretty far of the beaten path. This place is hard to find. Good thing your beau gave us very thorough directions,” you heard the rustle of fabric and then she stepped into the white light. Her features looked harder and even colder than usual now and her eyes were nothing but pitch-black holes with an eerie sparkle in it.  “Up and at ‘em then. I don’t have all night,” you sat up and slowly swung your legs over the edge of the couch. Your hand brushed the Glock you had kept next to you.

“Is Simon dead?” your voice sounded so flat it should be on life support. Nell made a weird sound. Something between a scoff and a chuckle.

“You two assholes deserve each other. That’s your first question here? You should get your priorities straight,” your fingers closed around the grip of the gun. There was a huge and rather loud part of you demanding attention asking the hell you were doing. This time your hand wasn’t shaking when you aimed the gun at her. There was a heavy pause. Then she stepped a step forward. Her expression was similar to one a wolf might wear who just sat on a meadow minding their own business when a rabbit walked up to them and challenging them to a fistfight. Skepticism, confusion, mild curiosity and some vague amusement.  

“Are you serious?” She looked at you for maybe thirty seconds. Everything happened incredibly fast. You took the gun in both hands, but before you even managed to release the safety she somehow was all over you. There was a snap in your elbow. The pain came in an instant. You let the gun drop and she caught it easily, nearly leisurely readjusted it in her hand and slapped you across the face grip first. It hurt like hell. You had never been hit in he face before, and she used a blunt object after all. She sent you flying towards the wall and you hit your head. For a second or two you didn’t know what was worse, the pain in your elbow or the one in your skull. You hadn’t time to contemplate, because sturdy fingers closed around your throat and pressed you against the wall. She wasn’t really choking you, she was holding you in place, but it was scary enough. What was even scarier was the fact that the gun was miraculously swapped against a knife. She nearly climbed into your lab. You looked straight into her eyes, they looked barely human.

“I reckon’ one of you owes me an eye now,” all you could see was the blurry tip of the knife hovering over your pupil.

“Nell?” whoever said that it sounded like a suggestion. You moved your eyes with hers. They fell on a hand gripping her wrist. Gary had grabbed it with the face of someone who knew very well that he just put his bleeding hand into a tank full of sharks in a frenzy. She just glared down on it. Gary let go.

“He wants her back in one piece,” there was the slightest pleading in his voice. For a very long time, no one moved. Then a grin appeared on her face.

“He said that, didn’t he?” Gary made an awkward shrug. “That’s actually a question of interpretation. If I leave a couple of pieces here,” she looked over to Gary who wore a face of panic with a dose of horror on the side, all hidden behind a deep frown. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When they flipped open again she was all friendliness. “Well then, let’s get her back. And you, lighten up a little. It’s like a fucking funeral with you and Arat,” she let go of your throat seemingly like an afterthought and strolled out of the cabin. You and Gary both stared after her. 

“Is Simon,” Gary dragged you up.

“Shut up,” he pressed out. It didn’t answer your question, not one bit, but you did what he told you. You weren’t an idiot. There was a chance that Gary and the other who helped you were in a very rickety position. But just one news, just the tiniest bit. Gary seemed to understand your pleading look.

“He was alive when we left,” he mumbled when he made you sit down in the backseat of some truck.


	7. Chapter 7

The door of the dark cell you were currently stewing in got opened and you squinted into the light. Nell had made you take a shower, had put you in plain, practical clothing and had locked you up in here with a blanket, a pillow and a bottle of water. She hadn’t looked especially happy about the fact that you got the five-star prisoner treatment, but it meant you still had plus points with Negan. Lucky you. When you had arrived back at the Sanctuary in the asscrack of dawn you nearly dislocated your neck trying to figure out if Simon was chained to the fence already. You hadn’t known how you would have reacted if the answer would have been yes, but he wasn’t there. It didn’t have to mean that he was alive, though. But you still could hope. You weren’t in that cell for long, maybe a couple of hours. What was going to happen next wasn’t something you looked forward to.

“Come on, get up,” Dwight mumbled, and you did what you’ve been told. He grabbed you by the upper arm pro forma and led you to the war room. Before he opened the door he looked around quickly and pulled you a bit closer. “You better keep your mouth shut about us, you hear me? Stick to Gary’s version of the story. Simon didn’t tell them shit, said he doesn’t know how you get out of your cell and what happened to David. Said you found the car. He ditched all the supplies. No one helped you. You got out on your own, understood?” he hissed in your ear. You sort of nodded. You couldn’t do anything else, because Dwight already pulled the door open and dragged you now in rather roughly. Negan was alone. He sat on the head of the table his chin in his hand and looked at you with a neutral expression.

“Sit down,” he ordered. Dwight pushed you on a chair which got him a little scolding look. “Get the fuck outta here, but stay close. I might need you later,” he said to him and Dwight hurried to skedaddle. Negan sighed heavily when he leaned back. He gave you a long, hard, once-over. You looked down on the scratched top of the table. “What happened there?” you lifted your gaze.

“What?” Negan gestured around his eye. You weren’t sure if you should tell the truth here and admit that Nell gave you your black eye. Negan beat you to it anyway.

“Was that my sister?”

“Yeah,” you said softly.

“You gave her a reason?”

“Put a gun on her,” your voice sounded so meek you were annoyed by yourself. Negan snorted.

“Well, then I guess you’re fucking lucky it’s just a shiner. Usually, this ends with someone dead, and so far it wasn’t fucking her,” he proceeded to study you in silence. Then he sighed. “You really gave us a run for our money. Wasted a lot of fuel getting you back. Tell me doll, how the fuck did you and your asshole get out, hm?” you shrugged a little and scratched nervously the back of your hand. Stick to Gary’s story. You could do that.

“David he,” you started. You didn’t have to pretend to still feel shaken by what exactly had happened. You were. “He brought me some food and then he sat next to me on the bed and he tried to grab me, so I scratched him,” Negan sat on his side of the table like a sphinx, listening attentively. “He got angry and threw me on the bed and then he was suddenly all over me. I kinda grabbed his gun and just shot,” your voice broke a little when the memory of his body slumping down on you flushed your brain. You hadn’t really had the time yet to process what had happened there and that it could have gone really bad really fast if Dwight hadn’t saved you. Negan frowned a little now.

“Why am I not surprised the fucker tried something like that,” he stated. “And good thing he carried a revolver, right? Considering how useless you are apparently handling semiautomatics. Then what?”

“He left the door open,” you said softly and reluctantly made eye contact with Negan. He raised an eyebrow. “So, I just thought,” your voice trailed off. Negan took a long breath.

“So you just thought I seize the opportunity by the dick and make a run for it?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled. He wasn’t believing you, not really, but you could tell that he hadn’t much ground not to. He actually looked torn apart a bit. He clicked his tongue.

“And you shot the asshole in the head? You did that?”

“Yes.”

“I see. Where did you found the car?” your already pacing heart stepped it up a notch. You had no idea what Simon had told them.

“Not far from here, in a back alley,” that, in theory, was true, but that the car had been there hadn't been a lucky break. Negan sighed annoyed and pulled a little face.

“Convenient, wasn’t it? It’s also convenient that this is more or less the same fucking story Simon dished me last night, minus the David part. Well, now I am inclined to believe that, my sister on the other hand? She calls bullshit on your bullshit, reason being that you are half his size and he had been half dead already. He had been half dead yesterday when he showed up here, turning himself in, promising to tell me where you are while begging me to let you live. A bit overdramatic you ask me, considering that the regular punishment for doing what you just did there wouldn’t be killing you,” you had no real idea what the regular punishment for a grab and run was, or obviously backstabbing Negan by running off with another man. It wasn’t the iron, that was reserved for special occasions. Maybe your stunt qualified. You kept silent. Trying to explain and add details would just increase the risks of getting caught up in inconsistencies. “So no one helped you? It was all fucking you?”

“Yes,” you were surprised how steady your voice was.

“And you what? Carried Simon out on your back?” you frowned when he said that in played confusion.

“He walked,” you said in a voice like this was obvious.

“He walked,” Negan repeated tonelessly. “Carson says he has at least two broken metatarsal bones. And he just walked it off?” you shrugged. To be honest you were a bit annoyed that Negan decided to take that part of the story and dissect it. It was the most believable. He _did_ walk.

“Yes, he walked. I mean he limped a lot, but he managed. He drove a car here, didn’t he?” you were dangerously close on sounding defiant. Negan leaned back again and palmed his beard.

“I reckon’ you have a fucking point there. That asshole is tough, like some hardy weed you can’t get rid of. Have to give him that,” the last part was mumbled to himself. You hadn’t missed the use of the present tense. You hadn’t missed the fact that Carson obviously had checked Simon out, either. Why would Negan allow that when he wanted to kill him? Your hope got a booster right now.

“So no one organized a car that had enough gas to get you to fucking Pennsylvania and back? No one gave you supplies to patch Simon up? Solid first aid by the way. No one got you a gun?”

“No,” you shook your head. “We found the car. And the rest was in the cabin. It was my father’s,” Negan cut you off with a dismissive gesture.

“Hunting cabin. Yeah, I know that,” he sighed. “Well then, I guess this is settled,” you looked up surprised. “What am I gonna do with you, now, hm?” what followed was another minute or so of frowned scrutinizing and seizing you up.

“I’m gonna ask you this once more, and I would appreciate your honesty this time,” you pressed your lips together. “Do you rather want to be down on the factory floor working for points than upstairs with me?” he asked with a cold undertone. He knew the answer already, and he didn’t like it.

“Yes,” you said softly, not quite making eye contact. There was a spark of fury flashing over his face, but it disappeared leaving nothing but that blank, cold mask behind.

“Alright,” he looked in the distance for a second or two, seemingly deep in thought. “You know you could have had that fucking earlier, right? Could have gone downstairs? Could have had your little thing with Simon? I wouldn’t have fucking liked it, but who am I to interfere. He can stick his dick in whoever he likes, the wives excluded, as long as it’s consensual. But no, you had to do it your way leaving me in a really fucked up position. Dwight!” the man in question opened the door immediately. You wondered if he was eavesdropping, checking that you didn’t snitch on him and the others. “Get me that asshole in here,” it took a while to fulfill that request. Negan sat there the whole time motionless except for his fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the table. Simon looked … okay. Tired and pale, but he had really seen Carson and finally got patched up professionally. His fingers were band-aided properly, and some were taped together, probably to stabilize them. And he wore a real brace around his shoulder. He was limping heavily, and Dwight couldn’t decide if he should help him or not and hovered awkwardly by his side. Simon’s eyes fell on you for a split second then he averted them, either in shame or because he didn’t want to give Negan more ammunition by acknowledging your presence. He was followed by Nell, who looked furious. It was a kind of brooding fury you had seen quite often, usually when she stormed out of Negan’s bedroom after she lost an argument. Your eyes went wide. This certainly couldn’t mean …

“You see, sweetheart, Simon here did something yesterday that was quite impressive. He showed up here surrendering, knowing very well about the consequences, finally owning up to the bullshit he got himself into. He traded his life for yours, leaving himself completely at my mercy. You need a ball sack the size of Texas to do shit like that. I can fucking respect that. Well now, I am a reasonable person and I have to admit that I owe the asshole some for doing shit before your time when I took that place over. So in the lieu of things and considering Simon’s stupid, heroic act of self-fucking-sacrificing I decided to give him a second, second chance,” you and Simon stared at Negan stunned now. Nell somewhere behind you scoffed. “It’s your fucking last. You so much as to forget to say bless you when I fucking sneeze you are done for it. No more screw-ups, no more little secrets, no more stunts. You will do what I tell you, no fucking question asked, no matter how much underneath you it may be. And only what I tell you, no more little liberties. I won’t fucking demote you, but believe me, I will breathe down your neck constantly. Nell, too. You won’t get away with anything, so do yourself a fucking favor and be a good little soldier. Understood?” Simon swallowed visibly. His eyes flicked to you shortly, and back at Negan.

“Yes,” Simon said. His voice was firm. “I understand. I won’t disappoint you,” then after a second, a little softer. “Thank you,” Negan put on that fake, jovial grin.

“I call that a regular happy end for you. Who would have thought? You even get the girl.”

“That’s a mistake,” Nell said.

“Yeah, I heard you the first fucking three times,” Negan just said. The decision was final.

“At least give him the iron,” Negan glared at her.

“The last time I checked I still ran this place, so why don’t you shut your mouth for once, darling?” you didn’t see her face, but you could imagine how she looked like.

“Fine, but do I need to remind you that Y/N here broke a bunch of rules and I can’t quite shake the feeling that she stole stuff from us. Are we gonna gloss over that, too? There is no wife status protecting her anymore. She’s just some regular worker bee, now,” Negan’s eyes fell on you after her words and he frowned a little in contemplation. Simon, on the other hand, looked really alarmed. Negan’s eyes ping-ponged for a while between you and Simon, then a sardonic grin appeared on his face. It slowly crept onto it.

“You are right,” you were surprised that Simon could get even paler. “And I think I know just the right person to do the punishing.”

“You can’t expect me to do this,” Simon said flatly. Negan’s eyes snapped to him.

“Sorry, what was that? Did you just talk back? What happened to I understand, I won’t disappoint you?” Simon pressed his lips together. You felt a surge of panic. You had no idea what the punishment was, but judging by Simon’s reaction it wasn’t something easy.

“Get Carson downstairs, and round up the workers. No one can say about me that I don’t treat everyone fucking equally,” you got pulled up by Nell who had a smug grin on her face. She dragged you downstairs and shoved you in a circle of quickly gathering workers. A lot of hollow eyes in ash grey faces stared now at you.

“You know,” she said conversationally while she took some sort of belt from Gary. “You are in luck actually. Simon’s a fucking professional with the machete. One clean cut. I probably would need three or four,” you stared horrified on your upper arm when she bound it off. With one sharp pull, she fastened the belt. It hurt a lot. “FYI, I still think you and your lover got away easy, so after this is over?” she leaned in conspiratorially. “This isn’t over. I’m kind of invested into you two lovebirds now and I have a lot of time and ideas,” she gave you a little shove into Gary’s arms.

Negan gave a speech. A rather long one, not exactly in your and Simon’s favor. It was fascinating to see how he managed to turn and twist the facts that at the end it sounded like his hands were forced here, and that was the last resort. You could tell that Simon would refuse the way he stared down on the grip of the machete Nell was holding in his direction. If he refused Negan would kill him, probably right here and now.

“Just do it,” Simon looked at you.

“What?”

“It’s just an arm,” you managed to sound like this was no big deal indeed. Under other circumstances, you might would have been impressed by yourself. “Please,” it was the please. Reluctantly he grabbed the machete and weighed it in his hand. After one last look to Negan to see if he really wanted him to go through with it, he walked over to you mechanically. Hesitantly he grabbed your lower arm and pressed it on a table.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled. It sounded like he was about to cry. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“It’s fine. Just do it, okay?” you tried to sound encouraging. You failed just a little bit. Simon nodded tensely. His lips were only a fine line now. He slowly lifted the machete.

“Close your eyes,” he murmured.

It didn’t hurt at first. The pain came delayed and it was worse you would have imagined. Carson was over you already. You slowly opened your eyes and stared down where your forearm just had been. Simon looked at you with a sad frown. Maybe it was the sight of your bones, the smell of blood or how impossible red your muscles looked, maybe it was the pain, maybe it was all of the above, but you passed out.


	8. Chapter 8

You were in Simon’s room. You didn’t need to look around to know that, the bed smelled like him. Rain drummed against the window in a steady rhythm. It was sort of comforting. You had been awake for a while now, but you didn’t want to open your eyes quite yet. Eventually, you did. Simon sat on his couch, his broken foot propped up on the coffee table, holding his braced arm absently while staring into the distance with a vacant expression. The rustle of fabric when you moved to get a bit more upright snapped him out of it immediately. He winced a little when he got up and put weight on his foot, but he sat next to you on the bed in a matter of seconds.

“Hey,” he started quietly and carefully pushed a bang out of your face. A soft, sad smile played around his lips. “You had me worried there. You were nearly out for a day,” that didn’t come as a surprise. Carson trying to patch you up had hurt enough you had basically been out of your mind in pain. Simon and Gary combined had trouble to hold you down, so finally the doc had decided to jab you with enough morphine to drug half the Sanctuary. You barely held your liquor, and you surely couldn’t hold your opioids. It effectively had knocked you out cold.

“I’m thirsty,” you mumbled. You weren’t quite here yet. Simon helped you to down half a bottle of water and you sunk back in the pillow.

“How do you feel? How’s the pain?” Simon looked down at your side. Your eyes followed his. So what happened yesterday hadn’t been a really realistic nightmare. You still hadn’t wrapped your head around the fact completely that you just lost an arm. At least it was your left one. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t hurt. Not really. All you felt was a throbbing in the stump, a low pulse in sync with your heartbeat.

“It’s actually not so bad,” Simon sighed relieved. He pressed a kiss onto your forehead before he helped you sit up even more and put another pillow behind your back. The thought crossed your mind that he probably should be the one lying down instead of coddling you. Before you could say this out loud another one popped up seemingly random, stealing away the attention.

“Why am I here?” Simon frowned at you. “I mean why is Negan allowing me to be here? Why am I not on the factory floor or in the infirmary?” Simon chuckled humorlessly and looked out of the window.

“Because he is generous like that,” it sounded bitter, sarcastic, and you understood. Negan could be _generous_ , couldn’t he? Generosity the likes of promising to spare the random strangers you barely knew if you would marry him. “He practically owned me before, now I’m his little bitch. Might as well take _some_ advantages out of it,” he ran a hand through his hair. “Listen,” he started and scooted a bit closer. “I know you don’t quite feel the same for me as I feel for you, and I would understand that after everything, everything that went down the past five days, you don’t want to be here. I wouldn’t blame you, and I won’t keep you. But I still have my privileges left. You need to heal before we can even think about finding you a job, and you would be much safer here with me,” he paused. “That sounds like I’m bribing you. Sorry,” you put your hand on his arm and he looked up to you.

“I understand, I,” you desperately wanted to be here, and not just because it was safer, or more comfortable, and you wouldn’t need to worry about points, not yet. You wanted to _be here, with_ Simon. “Simon, I never really, you know,” you felt oddly flustered now. “I mean I never was in love, I guess. Uhm, but after everything, all the time I thought you died, seeing what she did to you, being so scared for you I think, that maybe I am in love with you, too,” you felt incredible weird saying that. Simon smiled. The first real smile you saw on him for days. He gently took your cheek in one of his hands.

“Hey, it’s fine. Don’t feel obligated to say it, okay? Take your own time. I’m here. I can be patient. We just figure things out as we go, alright?” you nodded relieved. Mostly that you didn’t have to talk about it now. You might be an emotional person, but that didn’t mean you were able to talk about your emotions. He gave you a kiss. You allowed yourself to get lost in it without hesitation. He kissed you with urgency like he wanted to make sure you were both here, like he wanted to ground you in the here and now. When he pulled away he gave you another small peck before he put your foreheads together.

“I’m scared,” you admitted softly rather suddenly.

“I know, me, too,” was his equally soft answer. “Negan will leave you in peace. He is done with you now.”

“It’s not only Negan I’m scared of,” Simon sighed and pushed away.

“I know. What did she say to you?” you needed a second to remember.

“That she’s invested now, and that she has a lot of ideas,” Simon sighed sadly. “What do you think that means?”

“In Nell’s case? Anything from her losing interest to simply glaring at us from a distance to tripping us the stairs or us winding up dead under weird and rather gruesome circumstances,” that didn’t really sound comforting. His shoulders slumped down and he looked at you sadly. “If I would have known what will happen, if I would have known what they would do, I would never come back here. I wasn’t expecting that. I was convinced they would take it out on me, and only me. This isn’t really his style, but I was underestimating her. Her influence on him. I am so sorry about that,” you sighed. You were done listening to him apologizing. There was nothing to apologize for. Simon had done what he thought was best, and in hindsight, it had been the better of a bunch of evils. He couldn’t have known. And all things considered.

“It could have been worse.”

“How?”

“You could be dead.”

“Maybe I should be,” there was a heavy pause after is words. “I’m not a good person. I deserved everything coming at me and I sure deserve to die,” you just felt so sad right now hearing him say that.

“I know you did things, Simon. Terrible things. Things that would make a normal person question your sanity,” you heard your own words coming out of your mouth and you were surprised by your honesty. Maybe it was the morphine. Simon seemed a bit surprised as well. “But this isn’t on you. It’s this world. There is no good and bad anymore, no right or wrong, no normal, probably even no sane anymore. Every single one of us who is still alive did something terrible, something inhuman, something they should be dead for, even me,” you still saw the light leaving the eyes of that kid when you closed yours at night. The surprise on his face. But it had been you or him. “Believe me. The world brings out the worst in us, but this place is making it even worse. All the horrible shit going down here, all the hate and anger and violence and people getting mutilated and killed are on them. Only on them. It’s Negan and Nell, not you, not me, not the other Saviors or the workers. It’s the two psychos on top, riling us up, herding us like sheep, cattle us together until we turn on each other because it’s fun because they can. All under the delusion, they do it for our own good. You want to blame someone? Blame them. They _are_ the reason, and they are the ones that deserve to be dead,” you stopped. You were out of breath. Simon just stared at you. Your words had been a lot of things, dangerously close to treason for starters, but also way more serious, philosophical, and maybe even political than he was used from you.

“And there are really people who think you are a stupid, brainless ornament?” he smirked. You blinked at him.

“Shut up,” you mumbled. You felt embarrassed now and averted your gaze. Simon chuckled. Then he nudged you a little.

“Come on, scoot over,” you did what he asked for and he made himself comfortable next to you. You snuggled against his chest, carefully avoiding jostling your stump. It would take some getting used to thinking about your arm like that, a stump. He didn’t say anything for a long time, only staring at the ceiling with a thoughtful frown while he gingerly caressed your upper arm with his thumb.

“I will never forgive myself for putting you in that position, for causing you so much pain, no matter what you think,” you put your chin on his chest and looked up to him. “And I still think I deserved what she did to me in that shed. But you didn’t deserve to lose an arm. You didn’t deserve to have to watch me getting tortured. You don’t deserve any of this, because you are a good person no matter what you think of yourself. But you are right. It’s them. And I’m gonna make ‘em pay,” you frowned at him. “Negan cares for three things, himself, that fucked up bat and Nell. I don’t know how yet, and I don’t know how long it will take me, but I’m gonna burn this whole place down with every single one of them in it.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Well, well, well, how’s my favorite one-armed bandit doin’?” you froze with your hand hovering over a tomato. Nell’s voice felt like a bucket of ice down your spine. You shook it off and picked the fruit. This was your job after all.

“What do you want?” you mumbled. Nell chuckled.

“What happened to politeness? Smalltalk, hm?” you took a deep breath to calm your nerves. Her masterplan so far had been to kill you with backhanded insults and blatant provocations masqueraded as Southern sweet-talk and just messing with you’s. Simon called it annoying you to death. Either way. It worked. In your case, she did it to humiliate you. In Simon’s to make him give her a reason to finally try out a blood eagle. So far he managed well enough, but more often than not he had to work out nervous energy and barely contained rage by pacing and ranting in his room or, but this was only your assumption, by going out and stabbing some corpses. Simon would be dead the second he would lay hands on her. She was counting on that. Mighty dangerous, considering all Simon would have to do to end her would be snapping her neck or smashing her skull against a wall. He probably wouldn’t even break a sweat. She had to know that. On the other hand, this was the same woman that happily talked you through shooting her in the head. You could have pulled the trigger after all. You got up and faced her reluctantly stifeling the heavy sigh that desperately tried to force its way out of your mouth. Nell looked at you smugly.

“How are you then?” she smiled jovially. Her eyes didn’t.

“I am fantastic, thank you. But more importantly, how are you? How’s the amputee-life treating you? Found some velcro shoes yet? It’s the small things, amirite?” You couldn’t help but glare at her a little. You were as healed as you would ever be. The same couldn’t be said for Simon. Not that he would show weakness in public, but his foot still hadn’t healed properly, and Carson was sure at this point that he would never be able to move his left shoulder like before. Negan wasn’t an idiot. He knew that Simon would be useless for him out there crawling on his tooth flesh, so he went easy on him, but still, he never truly rested.

“I actually can tie my own shoelaces, thanks for asking,” you said. You nearly sounded cheeky. That woman never missed a beat.

“You have skillful fingers then,” she leaned in a little. “Are you putting them to good use? Because between you and me, Simon seems a little tense,” you just stared at her. You weren’t even blushing anymore when she said something like that, but what followed was new.

“How opposed would you be if I’ll take your sugar daddy for a hayride?”

“What?”

“I know what you are thinking. No way he would go for that after all the cutting and slicing and screaming and in your case astonishingly attractive cry faces. But you’d be surprised. Thing is now that he knows how bad I can make him feel,” she clicked her tongue. “Get my drift?” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. You probably were pale as a sheet now and you felt sick. There was a heavy silence between you.

“Is there a reason you are here?” you pressed out flatly.

“Do I need a reason?” she smacked her lips. “But since you brought it up. Have you seen your compost companion Tina lately?” you blinked at the question. Actually, you hadn’t. The garden was the easiest job in the whole Sanctuary, shitty points, granted, but the heavy lifting was usually done by the occasional Gastarbeiter, while things like plucking weed or picking produce were left to the crippled, elderly, and sick. Tina hadn’t been in today, but you weren’t thinking anything about it. It happened all the time.

“No. Why?” Nell put her arm around your shoulder to walk you away seemingly aimlessly.

“See sweetheart, looks like you and your oversized, Cro-Magnon-skulled, lumberjack set a trend a couple months ago,” you tensed impossibly more. “And now Dwighty and his way-out-of-his-league wifey and your bestie try their luck out there. Took some food, a car, some very valuable meds worth more than their lives, and just, poof, disappeared. Tell me, sweetheart,” she stepped in front of you and stared you dead in the eyes. “You don’t happen to know anything about that, hm?” You didn’t. You heard the first of it. And you were genuinely shocked. Tina _was_ your friend, a good friend, and running had been a stupid mistake. You and Simon had proven this quite impressively. If they would all die out there it would probably be the best-case scenario. Nell pulled a little face. She looked almost disappointed.

“Yeah, that’s what Simon said. Anyhoo, we send your bf after them, but considering it goes even remotely like it went down with you two, one of them will show up on our doorstep somewhere around noon tomorrow,” she looked around and whipped a bit on the balls of her feet. “How’s job satisfaction? You like it here?” you frowned about that. Just like Negan, Nell could sound on occasion like she was actually interested in someone, although she wasn't or just pretended to be to gather information to use as ammunition later. This was probably one of those occasions.

“Yes?” you answered slowly. She looked at you with squinted eyes.

“You know Negan’s still a bit sentimental about that you prefer slumming it here with the poor and dirty. So if you ever feel the urge to upgrade again,” you couldn’t help it. You actually scoffed. She raised her eyebrow.

“I’d rather cut off my other arm.”

“This can be arranged, actually,” you flinched a little. Nell tsked and looked at you hard. “Always with the high and mighty attitude. You said yes fast enough all those months ago.”

“What else was I supposed to do?” you mumbled under your breath. You were sure she understood it clear enough anyway. She sauntered past you back to the door. Seemed like this messed up visit of hers was over now. She stopped right next to you and gave you another once-over.

“You know it’s true, you _can_ force people to do shit they actually don’t want to do. It’s pretty easy with the right … coercion, but you know what you can’t do?” she leaned in. “Make them enjoy it,” with a laugh she walked away. “Don’t leave town,” she chimed before she stepped back into the Sanctuary. You stood there shaken up by her last words. They hit home a little too close. Sometimes you hated yourself because even if you still lived in luxury compared to the situation on the factory floor you missed being upstairs. You felt like a real spoiled bitch when you got into that mood. And while you didn’t miss Negan one bit you had to admit to yourself that you had liked sleeping with him. You were sure there were a lot of derogatory words for women like that. You heard them on a regular basis often enough. With a sigh, you went back to work.

Simon didn’t come back for two days. You couldn’t help but worry about that. He was handicapped now after all, and not being able to properly lift your arm surely couldn’t be an advantage when facing the dead, but he had assured you often enough that said dead had to go through a lot of goons first. At this point, Simon’s job was mostly to talk, plan and point at things. You had to believe him on this one. He finally showed up in the middle of the night. It was actually the shower running that woke you up.

“Did you find them?” he hadn’t been aware that you were awake and jumped a little when you talked.

“Jesus,” you had to chuckle.

“Sorry,” he sat on the bed with his back to you. In the pale moonlight, it looked like a tiny army with heavy artillery had fought a ground war on it leaving behind a scorched battle field.  Absently you traced one of the scars.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No,” you lied. Simon worried about you a lot and even something banal like not getting a good night’s sleep was upsetting him. There was no need to fuel this worry. Simon sighed.

“We found them alright. Or better they found us,” he scoffed. “Looks like there really is nowhere to go anymore,” he turned to you. Even in the relative dark, you could see that he looked rather sad now. “About your friend Tina,” it was enough to send the message home already. “I’m sorry I have to tell you this, but she didn’t make it. A couple of the dead,” he didn’t go on. What else was there to say? You didn’t even feel sad, just empty.

“I see,” you mumbled. Then you got up and leaned against his back with your chin on his right shoulder. He took the arm you put around his waist and rubbed it gently.

“Did he kill him?” you asked softly. Simon shook his head.

“No,” he said flatly. “Let’s say Sherry talked him out of it,” you needed a second or two, but finally it made click what exactly that meant.

“Shit,” was your deadpanned reaction. You’ve been there, you’ve done exactly that, and you wished it to no one, especially not Sherry who had been always nice to you while all the other workers looked down on you in disgust.

“Want to know what is probably worse? I don’t think he planned on killing him in the first place. But a little insinuation here, a suggestion there, some pointed looks, and suddenly it was their idea and Negan just kindly accepts the offer. Tina’s dead, Sherry sells herself to the highest bidder, Dwight loses a wife on top of getting the iron tomorrow, and they both thank him for that. I don’t know how he does it. Wouldn’t it be so fucked up you could admire it, to be honest,” he sighed and let one hand run through his still wet hair. “He surrounds himself with people who hate him and still is untouchable, still lands always on his feet. He always wins,” he sounded bitter and disappointed. You and Simon never talked again about what he said that day about burning it all down. Something like that was easier said than done. Negan’s complicated and manipulative system of fear, abhorrent punishments and over the top rewards had made sure that although probably everyone either hated him, was scared of him to death, or both, most people were unwaveringly loyal to him. Even Gary or Arat, Savior’s who still could think for themselves and were willed to take a risk in order to do the right thing would rather die than actually participate in a coup. The only real thing Simon could do would be going upstairs one day, put two bullets in two foreheads, and leave the rest of the Saviors to take care of him. You were convinced at this point the only reason why he hadn't done this already was you.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one. I am aware that I am writing quite a bit of filler chapters were nothing really happens, but we'll get to the action real soon and somehow we needed to get there. So please bear with me. 
> 
> Also, from now on I will play fast and loose with how much time passes and how far away places are, just as the show does. It's the TWD way ;)

Something had happened. Something bad. That was about the whole extension of your knowledge and of that of the other workers in the Sanctuary. It was something bad enough that Nell’s only comment to running into you and Simon in a rather compromising position one morning when she ripped the door open without knocking, was saying that she would prefer if Simon would wear pants when he would come to the war room, where he was expected ASAP. The war council meeting had been short, and when it was over the vast majority of Saviors, Negan included had left the Sanctuary. The only one who had come back that day had been the big man, and according to Tanya, he was in a shitty mood ever since. The others were still out. This went on for three weeks. Simon came back occasionally on a rather random schedule, only to shower, wolf down whatever food he could find, that one time to sleep for 14 hours straight, to apologize and leave again. You knew that he probably had a good reason for that, but you couldn’t help but be annoyed that he didn’t give you any explanation about what was happening. Because whatever it was, it was scary, too. Negan had doubled all guards on the fences, suddenly a weird curfew was in place, no one was supposed to leave the compound, not even the gardeners like you to tend to the cornfields, and suddenly all remaining Saviors were over the top suspicious towards any slightly out of place behavior of the workers. Of course, there were rumors, and the most plausible and commonly agreed on theories were an in-house coup by one of the outpost heads or that someone just attacked them.

Whatever it was, apparently it was over now. You just had gone downstairs to start your day with a stale breakfast, but not only was no one manning the pot of porridge that functioned as sad excuse for a canteen, no one was on the factory floor in general apart from two kids that were probably using the opportunity to steal stuff. You barely acknowledged their presence. The workers all had gathered in the yard. Negan had left rather high spirited the other afternoon, now he was back. Simon once told you that Negan had 437 Saviors on his payroll, most of them scattered over the outposts, and 293 workers under “his care”, most of them in the Sanctuary. And you had the impression every single one was here. People let you through. This was no surprise. Almost everyone sort of hated you, you got glared at a lot, heard words like bitch and whore stage whispered behind your back quite often and had made it a habit to bring your own bowl to breakfast, but Simon could put the fear of God into people, so no one actually tried something and from time to time you got priority treatment, like now. You arrived the front row of the show just in time to see Dwight dragging a beaten-up guy out of a van. Not so much beaten up as shot at. He was bleeding from a wound in his shoulder and generally looked like he got just dragged out a particularly dirty cesspool. Dwight stopped for a split second at Sherry who looked at both in shock and surprise. You wondered what had happened there. The little duo was followed by Nell. She wore an expensive look on her face. A shudder ran down your spine and you pitied the poor guy because he probably had a hell to pay now. Your eyes searched and found Simon. Negan stood next to him, and he looked smug and satisfied. He currently clapped Simon on the shoulder, the left one, Simon barely flinched, and said something to him that made the other man frown deeply. He looked around. Obviously, he was searching for you, because when your eyes met the slightest smile flitted over his face. It didn’t take long for Negan to find out what stole away Simon’s attention. After a long stare of the man he started talking again and whatever he said to Simon it made him blink dumbfounded and finally actually grin. He got dismissed by Negan and made a beeline for you, grabbed your hand without a word and led you away. People had merely shuffled slightly to the side for you earlier, now they scattered away like they were suddenly negatively charged. The second the door of his room fell shut he was kissing you. You made a surprised sound against his lips, but it didn’t take long for you to give in.

“God I missed you,” he mumbled, and he went in for another kiss. He gave you one last peck before he let you go and stepped away.

“You are in a good mood,” Simon chuckled and let his hand run through his hair.  

“Yeah, let’s say I don’t agree with a lot of what he does, but last night some well-deserved justice was served,” you looked at him puzzled. He sighed. “I promise I explain everything, but first things first, guess what?” you kept your confused face on. “Negan just put me in charge of the Satellite Outpost, and guess whom I allowed taking with me?”

“Who?” a bemused look appeared on Simon’s face. “Wait, me?” you asked baffled. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. The place maybe lacks the charm and comfort of this dumpster fire here, but it also lacks something else what easily makes up for it.”

“Nell,” you stated.

“And here I was worrying you might have a stroke,” he teased you. “You know I’m racking my brain about the hidden agenda of allowing you to go there with me, but I can’t find any. I think that’s an actual reward. I hate it when he does it, lets him almost look decent,” you pulled a little face.

“There’s just one decent bone in the man, and that’s the one that abides rape, and even that is probably tainted by  _something_ ,” you said in a low voice. Simon looked at you softly.

“It didn’t start like that. Do you know that? He used to genuinely care about people,” Simon rarely talked about what was before Negan had taken over the Sanctuary. Only that this place had been a mess, and that it was hard to believe, but it was better now. “But then the world just got worse, and people died no matter what he did to help them, and he started to think the only way of keeping them alive was herding them like cattle if they wanted it or not. It sounded good in the sales pitch, and it worked. People still died, but at least he got to decide which ones,” Simon sighed. “And then he gave the wrong people power, Nell wasn’t even pretending to be sane anymore, the whole place coarsened more and more, and look where we are now. The cause was lost when he let the first people kneel,” he stared out of the window and you frowned at him.

“Is there anything you try to say with that?” you asked. He sighed and rubbed his neck.

“I guess maybe that although his ways are wrong, and he is wrong, on many levels, his overall agenda still’s a decent one. He tries to keep people safe,” he kind of shrugged. You blinked at him.

“Are you defending him?” you could help that you sounded a little incredulous, but it suspiciously sounded like that. Simon looked at you sadly.

“No, I’m defending myself,” he sat on the bed. “You _do_ know that Negan and I aren’t so different after all, right? In many ways, I am worse. You hate him, why don’t you hate me?” That question blindsided you. You were aware that Simon was beating himself up lately about all the things he did in the past, especially about that one time he killed a bunch of preteens. According to Arat who had been there and had been the one who tried to stop him something in him had just snapped and he had barely been himself anymore. The thought that this might happen again worried you from time to time, but so far you had managed to suppress these worries like a champ. You sat next to him and took his hand. He looked down on your intertwined fingers.

“I hate him because of what he did to me and you. I’m scared of him. I’m not scared of you,” that was a very oversimplified answer. The real one was long, complicated and you weren’t sure you understood it yourself. But it seemed good enough for Simon who gave your hand a little squeeze and decided to move on to less depressing topics.

“It’s just temporarily, the Satellite Outpost, maybe a couple of months to get everything properly up and running again, but it’ll be better there than here. You’ll have a little bit more freedom. Maybe I can teach you finally how to shoot a gun, what do you say, hm?” he gave you a little nudge with his shoulder and you chuckled.

“Sounds good,” you smiled. The smile faltered. Something what he just said sounded wrong. “What do you mean with up and running again? What happened?” Simon got up getting rid of his shirt, probably to use the shower.

“That’s a long story, not really a good one. We move sometime in the late afternoon, so I suggest you start packing. We’ll have a four-hour drive where I can fill you in in great detail, alright?” he said with a little smile.  

“Yeah, sounds good,” you said to the already closed bathroom door and looked around in the room. What you owned fitted in two duffel bags that were half-packed already. This wouldn’t take long, so instead of packing like Simon suggested you pulled your shirt over your head, climbed out of your boots and jeans, unhooked your bra and snuck after him into the bathroom.


	11. Chapter 11

Simon had set a slow and languid rhythm, lazy, but deep, and every thrust, every roll of his hips sent you farther away, pushed you closer to your release. You had lost all track of time. The only thing that filled your mind was the feeling of him sliding inside and out of you, of skin on skin, of his breath hot against your collarbone, your ear, your lips. You had to be loud because occasionally he silenced you with a chuckle by devouring your mouth in a kiss.

“Simon, please,” you weren’t even sure what you were begging him for but somehow he knew. He took your hand in his, intertwined your fingers and moved them above your head, pinning you down there. In one smooth motion, he pushed himself up on his knees and grabbed one of your thighs changing the angle of his intrusion. He quickened the pace gradually making you fall apart right underneath him until it was too much though not enough at all. Although your orgasm heralded itself for quite a while now it hit you by surprise and you came with a cry loud enough it probably could be heard in the Sanctuary. Simon let you ride it out slowly with all its torturous ripples and aftershocks until you were boneless and satisfied in a way you hadn’t for a long time now. Simon chuckled against your pulse point, and after another burning kiss, he finally chased his own climax. Your body probably wasn’t much of a resistance, but it didn’t take long. When he was done he slowly lowered himself down on you, engulfing your body, and you enjoyed the feeling of being cocooned by his until it became a little too hot and heavy. One gentle nudge and he slid down from you. He looked over with a grin on his face.

“That’s a hell of a way to wake up,” he said, and you chuckled suddenly slightly embarrassed by how much you had allowed yourself to let go. You rolled to your side and hid your face against his shoulder. With a sigh, Simon gently took your chin and pressed a soft kiss against your lips. “I love you,” he said so seriously it melted your heart a little.

“I love you, too,” and you meant it, with every fiber of your body. Simon smiled even brighter and pulled you against his chest. You started to draw random patterns on his pecs, and what pecs they were.

“Maybe we should try to keep it down a notch next time,” he said with a smirk in his voice. “For the sake of the men, you know?”

“Why are you telling me that? That was all your fault,” you teased him. He snickered, gave you a small peck on the tip of your nose and got up. After he took care of the condom, not without a little annoyed grumble, he, much to your disappointment, put on his boxer shorts and already looked around for the rest of his clothes.

“I was thinking,” he said when he walked into the bathroom. A fancy word for the little stall that held barely enough space for the toilet, a washbasin and a very small shower fed by rainwater. You couldn’t complain. This room was the Ritz Carlton compared to the others in the Outpost, perks of being the boss you assumed, but you would have slept in a tent and washed in a river as long as you could be with Simon, as long as you could stay as far away as possible from the Sanctuary, from Negan and his sister. You happily paid with cold showers that smelled a bit weird to have that. “I’ll take you with me to the Hilltop today. What do you think?”

“You think that’s a good idea? What if Negan finds out?” Simon shrugged.

“Oh, he will,” he said around his toothbrush. He disappeared behind the doorframe, and you listened to the telltale sounds of someone rinsing his mouth. It felt weirdly normal and domestic. Simon came back into the room. “I’m pretty sure that at least four guys here are reporting back to him. But this isn’t for my entertainment or your leisure. I want to take you with me literally for safety reasons. Or do you really think I leave you back here with a bunch of Jareds? I don’t trust Rick and his people. What if they are stupid enough to try something else? If I have to come back here to a couple of dead bodies I want to make damn sure yours isn’t one of them,” you sighed. That conversation just took a dark turn really fast. When you had learned what exactly had happened here, what these people had done in the cover of darkness, how many Saviors they had killed without any obvious reason it had shaken you up a lot. Of course, you knew where the things that the Sanctuary wasn’t producing on its own were coming from, and that these communities weren’t exactly voluntary participants in the “deal”, but you didn’t believe that that justified obliterating 47 lives just like that. Dying by Lucille was cruel and gruesome, you had seen first hand what she could do. But even you knew that Negan didn’t kill more people than he thought were necessary, which overall were just a few. It was a dog eat dog world after all and these people had bit more off than they could chew. They had had it coming.

“You really think they would try something like that again?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that these people are used to win and to get what they want. You could see that the other night. The arrogance of the man. Almost rivaled mine,” he said with a grin and you rolled your eyes. Simon got more serious. “That was the first time that they got their asses handed to them like that, and they didn’t like it. There was a lot of fight left when we moved out. So maybe, yeah, given half the chance they probably will try something like that again.”

“That’s sound very comforting,” you mumbled and dropped onto your pillow.

“Don’t worry about that. You know how it is, everyone is always highly alert and attentive after something happened, and fully manned like this Rick would need way more people to pull something like that again. When I’ll take four-fifths of my guys to the Hilltop on the other hand? I’m not gonna risk that. So you better get dressed and make me some breakfast, woman,” he grinned at you.

“Am I now,” you gave him a relaxed look. “I would, but I’m not quite sure if I can move already. Besides, how do you expect me to do that with just one hand?” Simon rolled his eyes affectionately.

“Laboriously,” he sat on the bed and gave you a quick kiss. “Fine, I’ll do it. It isn’t like I have a reputation to uphold or anything,” with that he got up and marched to the door.

“Of being a gentleman?” you chirped after him. He shot you one last amused look before he closed the door behind him.

 

The Hilltop turned out to be a rather pretty place, perhaps a bit primitive. But maybe it was the wooden stake wall fooling you. Simon turned to you after he stopped the engine.

“Ground rules, young lady: no wandering off, no talking to strangers, not going with them, not even when they have puppies, and always stay in earshot of a Savior. Understood?”

“Yes, Dad,” Simon pulled a little face.

“Yeah I had it coming, but don’t call me that. Once again, do you understand?” he looked at you sternly and you nodded with a solemn face.

“Yes, full stranger danger and always in earshot of a Savior. I got it,” Simon seemed satisfied.

“Good, now go and have fun.”

“How?” he blinked at you.

“I don’t know. Check out the house, it is very,” you both looked over. “Civil War-ish. Maybe you learn something,” he grinned and jumped out of the car. You watched him and what felt like 100 men with guns invading the estate. With a sigh, you got out. You had expected this to be a rather dull event and you weren’t disappointed. It took 15 minutes in total to check the whole place out. Everyone looked at you with squinted eyes when you passed them. They probably couldn’t decide if you were really part of the small army that just decided to raid their pantries or not. Always some paces behind you, nonchalantly pretending and failing to walk the same route as you by chance was Alden. So Simon had given you a personal security detail. That was probably the most popular job of all. You let him catch up on the stairs to the house and gave him a sour look.

“There are like 800 dudes in there. I think I’ll be fine,” you said to him and he shrugged.

“Simon said,” you interrupted him. The workers might hate you, but it was a bit different for most of the Saviors. You almost got respect from the majority of them. You suspected because you rather kept your mouth shut and even got your arm chopped off than to rat out who helped you. You knew for sure that every time Gary’s guys had watch duty on the factory floor they kept an eye on you specifically, and Arat and Laura sometimes chipped in points out of nowhere when Simon wasn’t around, and you ran a little low. Sure, there still was the occasional asshole, like Jared, but the rest was usually friendly and helpful. Alden was one of them.

“Look, what can happen? You don’t want to follow me around like a puppy. So don’t. Go and do something else,” he frowned at you.

“Like shoving some people around?”

“If that’s what makes you happy?” you said seriously, after a second he huffed a laugh.

“Fine, but I’ll wait here in case you decide to promenade some more,” you already walked up the stairs.

“Whatever floats your boat.”

If Simon’s intention had been to intimidate Gregory by smothering him with fierce looking armed men he did so with flying colors. The place was oddly neat. There weren’t much of those left, houses that were as preserved and clean as this one. This probably had been a museum or something before and it still looked like that. There wasn’t even dust on the shelves. You suddenly felt dirty and out of place, and you swallowed the sudden urge to give a vase a little shove just to give the place a little end-of-the-world authenticity. Upstairs wasn’t much different. You passed the time by staring at brown portraits of important looking people when hushed voices caught your attention. You weren’t thinking much when you stopped by an open door of a room where two women were having a somewhat urgent sounding whispered conversation. They both looked up. You stepped a step back.

“Sorry,” maybe your behavior had been suspicious, maybe the woman was plain old crazy, but suddenly you got jumped. She was in front of you in a blink of an eye, pulled you with your back against her chest, put her hand over your mouth and parts of your nose tight enough it made it hard to breathe and before you knew it you felt the cold edge of a blade on your throat.

“Maggie, what are you doing?” the other woman hissed, and you probably would have asked her the same thing when you hadn’t been busy in slipping into a full-fledged panic attack. The irony wasn’t lost on you that you just told Alden you’d be fine, what can happen.

“She’s one of them,” there was an awkward whine in the woman’s, Maggie’s, voice. It sounded pained, desperate. It wasn’t exactly something you wanted to hear from the person currently threatening to Columbian necktie you.

“There are dozens of them, what do you think will happen? Let her go,” you could feel the pressure lessen and allowed yourself to hope a little that you might get out of this alive. The hope died together with the sound of someone walking down the corridor, someone tall and heavy. It took Simon three seconds to take the whole picture in and prepare himself to react accordingly. Somehow he managed to grow a couple of inches. He looked really intimidating now.

“Oh, you don’t want to do this,” he said flatly. His eyes flicked to the other woman. “And you don’t want to do this either. There are 57 men with guns downstairs. What do you think will happen when you shoot me or kill her, hm? Do you really want to end like this, Maggie?” there was an insecure little flinch from the woman holding you. Maybe she was surprised that Simon knew her name. “And you are Sasha, right?” yes, definitely surprised. “I’m gonna say it one more time, let her go,” there was no reaction. You could see that Simon slowly ran out of patience. “She has nothing to do with anything.”

“She’s a Savior. You’re all murderers,” the woman snapped.

“Maybe, but here’s the thing, she is neither a Savior nor a murderer. If you cut her throat you kill the only innocent in this room, maybe in this house. Do you really want to be that person? So please, let her go and I promise you, you’ll get out of this alive,” you could feel the hesitation in Maggie’s whole body. It was the other woman who pushed the decision.

“Maggie?” she urged. Suddenly she let you go and gave you a little shove.

“Don’t run,” Simon said calmly. You had a hard time not to. Stiffly you walked to him and he slowly but determined pushed you behind his back. Then he said something really surprising. “Close the door, turn the key, too,” you stared at him for a second. Maggie and Sasha, too. “Just do it,” the klick of the lock was impossibly loud in the room. He looked at you and back to the two women. It was scary how light his voice sounded. “And now you’re going to take my gun and put it on Maggie, would you?” Sasha drew hers while Maggie shifted around uncomfortably. Simon was up to something, you had no idea what, but that thing here was literally his job, so you did what he told you. “I don’t take any chances with you people. If Sasha suddenly decides to shoot me you will shoot Maggie and her, understood?” bold bluff. You probably wouldn’t hit Maggie from that distance if she had been the size of a barn, let alone Sasha, but you managed to pull out his gun from its holster and aimed it at the woman’s chest from the relative safety of behind Simon’s back with enough confidence and swagger that one could get the impression you did it all the time. There was a heavy silence that got suddenly interrupted by someone trying to open the door. Everyone except Simon jumped.

“Simon?” it was Dean.

“Yeah?” he called out. There was an awkward pause.

“Are you with, I mean,” another one. “Is Y/N with you?” in under circumstances his fluster might be amusing.

“Can you give us a minute or two?” another shuffle in front of the door and an unintelligible conversation later.

“Sure, take your time,” then the intruding Saviors walked away. You couldn’t see it, but you heard the smug grin on his face.

“Now that we have all the time in the world to talk, let’s have a little chat. But maybe we should make it a quickie, what do you think?” Maggie and Sasha shared confused looks. They generally looked like Simon just had started to river dance.

“What do you want?” Maggie asked.

“Me? Not much. I see you found the Hilltop, not that this is a surprise at all. Probably a little disappointing, just a bunch of unarmed sorghum farmers who let you do their dirty work. Not much of soldier material, more like cannon fodder, amirite?”

“Why are you,” Simon just went on like he had no care in the world.

“Well, the Kingdom on the other hand. Met Ezekiel yet? Colorful gentleman. Has a pet tiger, and what’s maybe more interesting for you, a whole lot of well-trained soldiers and so many guns. Bet your new friend Paul knows exactly where the Kingdom is. Maybe you can ask him?”

“Why would you tell us that?” Sasha asked. Simon shrugged.

“You _do_ plan a retaliation for what we did to your friends the other night, right? Thing is, Maggie, you don’t have the numbers, and considering that Negan currently is at your home, fumbling his way through your panty drawer and taking back every gun, knife, and bullet you people stole from us and then everything else, you don’t have the means either. But with the right allies, the right plan and let’s say the right … information, you maybe, but only maybe have a chance to hit Negan where it hurts the most,” you shot Simon a look. Was he serious?

“We don’t need your help,” Maggie snapped.

“Oh dear, you do, because you have absolutely no idea who you are up against. I did mention the 57 Saviors downstairs? Add the 73 that were present the other night. You try to make a Venn diagram out of these two sets of people you’ll end up with two circles, I tells ya. And that is not even scratching the surface. You don’t know the first thing about us, our men, our set up, resources, where we are holed up, and what we are capable of when taunted. You’ll attack us with what you know and have now, Negan and his sister will crush you like insects, or you’ll let me help. Your choice,” Sasha looked a little more convinced than Maggie, but overall you didn’t think they would even consider Simon’s offer.

“Why would you do this?” Sasha asked.

“You never heard of the enemy of my enemy is my friend? Let’s be friends, Sasha.”

“I don’t believe you. He said you are his right-hand man.”

“He did, and I am, but believe me, I have my reasons to want him dead, just like you,” there was a heavy silence. Sasha looked from Simon to you and back. Suddenly she put her gun away. You let yours down a little, too.

“He did this, right? Your arm?” she was asking you.

“I,” you started. Simon gave you a little look with a raised eyebrow. He didn’t want you to talk to them. You would have been a bit miffed about that, but it was probably better this way. This was Simon’s show after all.

“Technically I did it, but he made me. The alternative was we both die, so you maybe understand why the thought of strangling him with his own small intestine keeps me warm at night,” they shared another look. Somehow suddenly the tables had turned. Maybe because Simon’s anger was personal, just like theirs, but you had the impression they both believed him.

“What’s in it for you?” Simon sighed.

“Sweet, sweet revenge, I suppose. Do I need another reason?”

“Negan has to die,” Maggie pressed out. Simon took a long, deep breath.

“That really goes without saying, doesn't it? You can have him, all I want is the walking bloodbath that is his sister,” now both women looked confused. “Right, you probably hadn’t really the time to take in the scenery. She was hard to miss. Tall, dark hair, really smug grin on her face, kind of good looking?” this was really not the time, but somehow you glared at him for the last remark. He caught you out of the corner of his eyes and shrugged to you with a small grin.

“What, she is,” he turned back to Maggie and Sasha. “She’s the one who took your friend,” that seemed to trigger their memories. “So, what will it be? Last time offer for siding with me, aye or nay?” Maggie looked down on the knife she still was holding in her hand. When she lifted her gaze again she wore a look of determination.

“Can you get him out?”

“Who?”

“Daryl,” that was the first time since the whole thing started that Simon seemed to be caught off guard.

“Lady, you are overestimating my abilities. I’m no magician.”

“No Daryl, no deal.”

“Let’s be realistic…”

“We can get him out,” you heard yourself say. There was another part of you standing on the sidelines asking you what the fuck in capital letters. Simon shot you the tiniest look that somehow managed to promise a lot of words later.

“Fine,” he snapped. “We get you your friend back and then we talk, how does that sound?” he said in a rather snarky tone. He didn’t like it. You didn’t like it either.

“Alright,” Maggie said.

“Great, now that’s settled I suggest you sneak back to Alexandria and convey my proposal to Rick and whomever it may concern, hm? I have a jailbreak to plan. When Daryl’s back in the fold lets meet somewhere. The Satellite Outpost comes to mind. I think you guys are familiar with the place?” you could see the little uncomfortable looks on their faces. At least they had the courtesy to be a tiny bit ashamed. “I usually do rounds, all by myself, in the late afternoon around 6, that’ll take me to a little forest. Very remote, private, too. No Saviors milling about. Am I being subtle enough?”

“Okay,” Sasha agreed. You stood around for a while just silently seizing each other up.

“Well wasn’t that lovely, but I think we have to go,” he already unlocked the door and somehow shoved you out. He wasn’t waiting for any reaction from Sasha and Maggie, he simply walked out and closed the door behind him. With a heavy sigh, he dropped against it.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he snapped under his breath.

“What were you thinking?” he glared at you. “You started with all the conspiring,” he pushed himself away from the door and walked towards the stairs. You had to hurry to follow him.

“Look a little bit more like we just had sex,” he mumbled.

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Well, you could start by not looking like we just had a powwow with the enemy and you made promises you can’t keep,” you both stopped at the top of the stairs. There were still Saviors loitering in the foyer who suddenly were all active members of the floorboard inspector guild. You turned your back to them and fumbled needlessly on your clothes.

“Who says I can't keep it. I do have a plan, you know,” you murmured. Simon frowned at you.

“Then do tell,” he said sarcastically. You shrugged.

“Well, it starts with me getting terribly sick.”  


	12. Chapter 12

You pitied Carson. Granted you didn’t particularly like the man, he looked scary and gruff, he was scary and gruff, odd traits for someone who used to have a family practice, but what you and Simon were currently doing to him was a bit cruel. You still avidly remembered your sister in the hospital all those years ago and you managed so far to fake her symptoms expertly enough you should have picked up acting professionally when you had the chance. You even had thrown up at some point, mostly nerves, which really had put off Simon who forgot for a second or two there that you weren’t actually dying. So Carson, without much ado, had jumped to the right probable diagnosis, you could tell by the way he suddenly paled in horror and was now currently breaking gently to the third most dangerous person among the Saviors that if it really was appendicitis his girlfriend was probably done for it. Carson was no surgeon, and Med School had been a long time ago, so prodding around incompetently under questionable hygienic conditions in your abdomen could as well be a death sentence. Simon managed to convey a mix of shock, worry and anger convincingly enough someone really should start to hand out Oscars to you two.

“So what _can_ you do?” Simon snapped. You looked up to him miserably with your legs pulled up to your chest curled in a ball, because _it hurt so much_. Carson rubbed his sparsely haired head.

“Antibiotics, but you know the rules,” never waste meds on dead people. Of course, you knew that, and you had expected what would happen next. Carson sent the girl who assisted him away while Simon completed the daily soap opera scene you were playing here by sitting next to you and holding your hand. It took Nell forever to show up. Under other circumstances, it would have been Negan, but the man wasn’t here. You and Simon were completely in the dark where he was or why, but it played conveniently into your cards since he took a lot of people with him and things like guard duty ran only on a skeleton crew. So you and Simon hoped he wouldn’t show up anytime soon.

Nell had a cup in her hand with something steamy and hot, coffee by the smell of it, and the real stuff, too, and a cigarette in the other. She didn’t look happy that she obviously had to interrupt her break, and gave Carson an annoyed glare before she shoved the cup in his hands in an exchange of your patient file.

“I think that,” Carson started.

“Shut up,” she said around her cigarette, took a drag and flipped the chart open. She eyed Simon up and down poignantly through the smoke.

“I heard that the president of the assholes and his first lady came rushing in here like something was burning, looks like it is?” she grinned. Simon squeezed your hand a little harder, unintentionally. He was close to hurting you. Nell skimmed through the file. She clicked her tongue. “My my, and that’s a blaze,” she closed it and without looking nearly rammed it in Carson’s arms who spilled coffee all over him. Then she sauntered over to you. Simon and she glared at each other, at least Simon was glaring, Nell was gloating, until he let go of your hand. “On your back, sweetheart,” you shared a look with Simon who nodded tightly. You didn’t forget to groan when you complied. Nell looked down at you with a little malicious smirk. You couldn’t quite shake the feeling she was absolutely calling your bullshit. You started sweating. She took another long drag, made sure Simon got the brunt of the smoke in his face, took the cigarette in one hand, and suddenly pushed four of her fingers deep enough down into your right, lower abdomen the only reason you were fast enough to remember to scream out accordingly was because it _did_ hurt like a bitch. Your body tried to withdraw from the pain. It wasn’t even a conscious decision. Simon couldn’t hide the hateful look on his face. He was close to doing something stupid, so you quickly took his hand to calm him down

“Huh,” was what she said. Then she stepped back and looked over to Carson. “So what? You need my permission for a very splattery round of Operation, go for it,” she chimed. Carson opened his mouth. “When you want to give her our incredibly valuable broad-spectrums, on the other hand, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I won’t allow it.”

“When we give her antibiotics now we can contain the infection before the appendix ruptures and she can recover from this just fine,” Nell looked incredibly unimpressed.

“ _Or_ ,” she started. “She can miraculously recover from her alleged appendicitis all by herself. _Or_ you waste two pills every two hours and she dies anyway. Two in favor for me. What will it be, kicking the bucket or not? The suspense. I probably can’t sleep tonight,” Carson looked like he would start to discuss again. She stepped a step closer and the man tensed. “That _is_ my final decision. Oh, and Carson,” she said lowly before she crowded him. He got impossible tenser, it had to hurt. She slowly let one hand glide into his lab coat pocket. It was deliberately sexual. Simon next to you pulled a face somewhere between disgust and pity for Carson. “I know you like ‘em young and pretty, but no favors this time, hm?” she pulled the keys for the medicine cabinet out and stepped a step back. With a frown, she weighed them in her hands, shot one last look at you and Simon and walked towards the door. Before she opened it she turned around again.

“Of course you can discuss this decision once more when my dear brother decides to honor us with his presence again, but in the meantime I suggest we all keep our finger’s crossed,” she smirked at you holding up both her hands with crossed fingers and gave you a wink.

“What a bitch,” you said, but only after she finally left again. Simon and Carson made both an approving sound. Simon took your hand in both of his and stared at Carson.

“I’m sorry,” Simon sighed heavily. A little bit more pathos and you had to stop him from overacting it.

“I know,” Carson shuffled around awkwardly.

“Maybe she’s right. It can always be a false alarm. And maybe Negan makes another decision,” Carson got stopped by Simon’s look.

“Shut up,” he said curtly. Carson nodded. You got two Advil’s shoved into your hand. They probably wouldn’t even help if you really would have been in pain, but Advil wouldn’t kill you, so you took it. Carson left you and Simon some privacy. The second you both were sure he was out of earshot Simon leaned down.

“I don’t like it. She’s suspicious. I don’t know what she did there, but I doubt she believes you really are sick. She probably is positioning people all over the place as we speak eyeing us like hawks. We should call it quits, go back to the Satellite Outpost. We tried,” you squeezed his hands.

“Simon.”

“If they want him out so badly they can try their luck, I won’t stop them,” he kept on rambling.

“Simon,” he didn’t like the plan. Mostly, he didn’t like that you were even part of the plan. But he didn’t know the place as you did. He maybe was here longer than you, but you had been 11 months upstairs with literally nothing to do. As long as you didn’t leave the compound Negan hadn’t given a lot of damns where you had been nosing around. You had been supposed to stay away from the pantries and the armories, but that had never stopped you. You knew every nook and cranny, every corner and secret passage, every door, window, hatch, and staircase, and you knew where the keys were for every single one of them. One was in your pocket right now. Besides, Simon had a job. He had to distract Carson for 30 minutes. The doc was your alibi after all. “It’ll work. Don’t worry. You know how she is, it’s part of her play. That overconfident, know-it-all attitude. I know exactly what you are up to so tell me exactly what you are up to. She’s maybe suspicious, but even she won’t think we will try something right under her nose, because she might think I’m stupid, but she knows you aren’t,” repeating this in your head it was basically clear what Simon’s reaction to your words was.

“Oh, so you do think it’s stupid what we are about to do, too, hm?” he said sarcastically. She pulled his hand to your mouth and pressed a kiss on it. Simon sighed. “Fine, alright,” he mumbled. You managed to smile at him assuredly like you weren’t scared shitless and overly aware that when you actually got caught, death probably wasn’t even an option anymore.

A couple of hours passed, mostly spent in tense silence. At least your mood fitted the situation and Carson wasn’t getting suspicious every time he came over to check on you. It was well after midnight when Simon got up after giving you one last kiss. You went back to pretend to sleep, a skill you honed to perfection when you had been with Negan, since the guy had tended to leave you alone when you were asleep.

“She’s asleep now,” you heard Simon say. “Is this a good thing?”

“Yes, she doesn’t  seem to have that much pain, as well. Maybe she jumped the gun here,” Simon sighed heavily. You basically could feel two sets of eyes on your back. “You mind joining me for a drink? I could really use one and I hate to drink alone,” Simon said in a tired, but pleasant voice. He could be charming to a manipulative degree. This was the kind of voice you couldn’t say no to.

“I really don’t have anything,” Carson started.

“Don’t worry. Wait here,” Simon said and left the room. Like the doc would go anywhere. He used the time to check your forehead again for any fever and hummed approvingly when he couldn’t find any. Simon was back in less then 5 minutes. He complimented the doc to the back of the infirmary where he had his little office, not much more than a hole in the wall with a desk in it. You turned around. Simon had made sure the doc couldn’t see your bed from where he was sitting. You could hear the sound of glass on glass. You had half an hour.

Grateful that the bed was so hard, rigid, and solid an elephant could have made jumping jacks on it without it making a sound you swung your legs over the edge carefully. You socked feet hit the cold floor. The little envelop was easily found in the pocket of Simon’s leather jacket and in one swift motion, you flitted out of the door he had left open. You didn’t shut it completely, too, just left it ajar. For a second you leaned against the wall next to the door and took a couple of deep breaths. Here goes nothing.

The Sanctuary at night was basically a morgue, especially that late at night. Guard duty happened outside and despite of their fondness of boozing and playing cards every Savior had their duties in the morning, so it was highly unlikely that a lot were even awake right now. You took the scenic route upstairs, which was longer, but usually even less populated. You met not a single soul. Once more you were relieved Negan wasn’t here. There was a six to one chance which wife he took to bed, but tonight you could be sure she was definitely in hers. Negan had his bedroom, and then there was the common room where the girls usually hung around during the day, but each had a little bedroom on her own that they shared with another wife. You had shared yours with Tanya, but you knew that she didn’t like Sherry very much, so she had switched with Amber. And when you knew one thing then that Amber was probably dead drunk and sleeping it off.

“Sherry,” you whispered and shook her a little. The woman stirred up immediately. She even went so far as to grab your wrist in her defense. She stared at you surprised and let go.

“What are you doing here?” you pulled out the key from your back pocket, and held it in her face. Amber snored in her bed and moved around before she settled back into sleep with a groan.

“Do you remember that old, green metal door on the left side of the Western bike lot and how we always wondered where it would lead?” Sherry was confused. She only took the key because it kept hovering in front of her nose.

“What are you talking about?”

“It is an unloading dock for trucks that will lead you outside through a security door. That’s the key for both doors. You will end up on the Western perimeter of the Sanctuary,” Sherry stared at you.

“What?”

“Go two miles on the main road until you come to an old hardware store. Sorley’s. It should be clear of the dead, Simon made sure of it before we got here, but you should take a knife with you.”

“Are you being serious? Why would you,” you didn’t let her go on. You hadn’t the time.

“There’s a car. It’s a shit car, a blue Honda with a broken back window and an ugly flower on the hood, but it has enough fuel to carry you out maybe 30, 40 miles. Drive North on Longrun Road. Do you know the old hunting cabin there? Bit back off the road? Nothing more than a ruin?” Sherry nodded.

“There are supplies there. Food, water, clothes. Enough to keep you running for a week, maybe two. And then you hide somewhere. Somewhere where Dwight will find you, okay?” you looked her in the eyes. Hers were wide. It were the supplies Gary had given you, the ones Simon had ditched. He hadn’t just thrown them away. That was not how the man’s mind worked.

“Why are you doing this?”

“We have a plan, okay? To end this. All of this,” exaggeration, more of an idea, but Sherry didn’t know that. “But you need to help us. You need to leave, okay? Please,” you urged.

“Why me?” you sighed.

“Because you don’t deserve to be here. Even less than the others. They made their choice on their own. You hadn’t any. You did it to save Dwight. I know exactly how this feels,” you both looked down on your missing arm.

“Okay,” Sherry said. “I trust you,” then after a pause. ”Where did you get the key?”

“Simon gave it to me.”

“He’s in on this?” you nearly rolled your eyes. You literally just said that.

“Yes.”

“Dwight, too?” you sighed.

“Not yet, but he will be when we tell him we get you out safe. So did you understand what I just told you?” Sherry nodded. That was not the real reason you decided to give Sherry an out, but she didn’t know that either, and she didn’t need to know.

“Okay, wait an hour. Exactly an hour. Then you make a run for it, alright?” she nodded and you got up. You shot another look at Amber. She was out as a light. “Before I go,” you pulled a little piece of paper out of your pocket. “I need you to write something down for me.”


	13. Chapter 13

Three people had keys for the dark cells, Nell, the current jailor, Dwight at the moment, and Negan. And you know exactly where the man kept his. You would have gone through with it even if he had been home. Negan wasn’t saying no to a nightcap or two as well, and you knew for a fact that the he slept like a log, but now that he wasn’t even here you didn’t have to worry to wake him up. You scurried into his bedroom. It felt weird to be back. You stared at the bed, neatly tucked, and frowned. Not all memories of that room, that bed specifically, were bad, most, in fact, was quite the opposite. You shook your funk off and walked quickly over to the secretary in the back. With a short prayer that Negan hadn’t taken it with him for some reason, you opened a drawer. The heavy wad of keys was practically smiling up at you.

“Thank God,” you mumbled and grabbed them. Now you effectively possessed every key to open every door in the Sanctuary. You quickly moved out and back down again. Your next stop was a certain armory. The gun Simon had described to you was quite specific. It had been Simon’s idea, a sign of goodwill if you wanted it, but you had worried you might wouldn’t find it. Your nerves got calmed down immediately. Between all the semiautomatics and small revolvers that beast stood out like a sore thumb. You laboriously checked if there were bullets in the cylinder before you picked it up surprised by its weight. This wasn’t a practical weapon. That Rick guy had to be crazy. With a sigh, you put the Colt Python in your waistband. Going into Negan’s room when the man was there would have been the top of the stupidity pyramid, open a cell with a guy who had been on the receiving end of Nell’s interest for a couple of days now was basically a small suicide attempt. There were guards around the cells, but they were on a strict schedule and you knew guards. They had to be awake and alert when everyone else was asleep. If they were supposed to go rounds every twenty minutes they wouldn’t suddenly show initiative and go patrolling every 15. You pressed yourself in a doorway of some storage room and let the man, DJ by the looks of it, saunter along the corridor. You waited a couple of seconds after he walked around a corner.

“Daryl,” you said softly together with a knock on the cell. “You don’t know me. I’m a friend. I’m here to get you out, okay?” there was no reaction from the other side. “I’ll open the door now. Please, I am really here to help,” with another prayer to a god you weren’t even believing in you turned the key. You had expected it, but it still surprised you. A landmass of a man suddenly pushed you with his whole body on the opposite wall while clammy hands closed around your throat. When you hit the wall the air escaped your lungs with an oomph. He was very close. And he looked like he wasn’t entirely there.

“Please,” you pressed out. It took a while, maybe 30 seconds, but he released some of the pressure.

“Who are you?” he pressed out.

“I’m Y/N, Maggie and Sasha send me,” that was close enough to the truth. Actually, it was a blatant lie. You just implied you somehow secret-agented yourself in here from the Hilltop. But by all means necessary, right? He glared at you and finally let you go. His eyes, squinted in suspicion, never left you when he stepped back.

“I’m outta here,” he suddenly said. That was not the plan.

“Wait,” he actually did. You pulled out the Colt and the envelope.

“You have two possibilities. You try to kill yourself out of here, which you won’t be able to, believe me, or you follow these instructions, and do exactly as they say. I promise you, I will get you out. All you have to do is be patient,” after another minute of staring down at both items he took them. He tucked the colt in the loose waistband of the sweater pants he was wearing and ripped open the envelope. He browsed over the few lines. Every time his eyes jumped to another he shot you a little look.

“I don’t believe you,” he finally said. Stubborn prick.

“I swear. I can get you out, Daryl. Please.”

“Nah, I do it on my own,” he already walked. Shit.

“You can’t win this fight on your own. You need help, take my fucking help, Daryl. Together we can end this,” you whispered loud enough you were afraid you would be heard. Daryl hesitated. Then he turned half around and glared at you through his bangs for what felt a long time. There was a barely-there nod. An avalanche of rocks just rolled off your shoulders. You watched him hurry around a corner after he read the instructions again and stared into the dark cell. You pulled out the piece of paper, threw it on the ground and locked the door.

Simon was telling some half amusing anecdote when you snuck back into the infirmary. It was hard for him to tell one that didn’t include at least two guys dying. You simply had gotten rid of the keys in some corner halfway to here. He could see you and made eye contact for a split second. You nodded and lay back in the bed. Simon let this little booze-up die down naturally until he announced that maybe it was time to check on you again. The doc agreed and was seemingly satisfied by your progress, or rather lack thereof.

“How did it go?” Simon asked under his breath.

“Everything like we planned,” you said equally softly. Simon didn’t look happy.

“Let’s hope so,” he mumbled.

You spent the next hours eagerly awaiting … something. Carson at this point was convinced you wouldn’t die anytime soon and seemed genuinely relieved. Maybe you should cut him some slack and put the man on your good guys list. He basically told you you were free to go when the door got pushed open slowly. It was Nell. She wasn’t storming in guns blazing, she didn’t even look especially angry, she just walked in and stared at both of you. Simon tensed.

“You look better,” she said casually. Carson for some reason thought this was the right moment to draw attention to him.

“Seemed like it was fal -,” Nell snapped into his face with her fingers. She wasn’t even looking. Carson fell shut immediately.

“Get the fuck out of here,” she said flatly. There was a second of hesitation, a moment that would have gotten him killed if he would have dragged it out even longer. Carson did the only reasonable thing. He bolted.

“Get up,” she said to you. You both were unarmed. Things were about to get worse when this was the first thought that crossed your mind. You slowly did. Simon stood close to attention. She made a come here gesture and you walked over. With gentle determination, she turned you around and leaned in.

“On your knees,” this came by  surprise. Negan made everybody kneel, but Nell never felt the urge. You slowly got down first on one, then on the other knee. There was a sound you surely could identify, a knife being pulled out of its sheath, and then you felt an ice-cold tip on the back of your neck. You didn’t even panic. It was something else you felt, something primordial that froze you. Simon’s eyes went wide.

“So,” she said lightly. “How did you do it?”

“What?”

“Don’t fucking test me, Simon. I am done playing games. This is a very sharp knife. I promise you it’ll kill your girl fast and swift. Just tell me how you got him out and where he is now, or fast and swift will turn into slow and painful. This is your choice,” his eyes ping-ponged between you and her. Judging by the look in them he was very conflicted right now. You felt the pressure tighten. Simon was about to say something, either trying to talk yourselves out of it or actually spilling the beans. Either way, he didn’t. The door got opened rather forcefully and Negan took the picture in.

“Let her go,” he said flatly. Nell wasn’t listening.

“Don’t be an idiot. It was them.”

“Nell,” there was impatience in his voice. Annoyance. She just scoffed. Next thing you knew you got shoved towards Simon by Negan who had grabbed Nell’s wrist and pushed her roughly away. Then he stepped back with his arms open in surrender because she still had a knife and Negan was unarmed, too.

“Listen,” he started.

“You are a fucking idiot. They are playing you. They are playing you for months and you just let them. You fucking reward them for it. Do you fucking believe it is a coincident they show up here with some cryptic medical issue and suddenly Daryl’s gone? Apparently, you are.”

“It wasn’t them,” Negan said sternly. Nell scoffed. “Look, I came back here, thought the same thing. But why would Simon do that, hm? He ain’t that fucking stupid. And guess what. I came fucking back short a wife,” he pulled a piece of paper out of his leather jacket and held it in her direction. She grabbed it hesitantly. “That’s Sherry’s handwriting. Dwight confirmed it. She must’ve gotten a hold of my sets of keys. I got Dwighty boy in a cell. If you want you can have a go on him later, but not when you are in a fucking mood like this,” her eyes snapped from the paper to Negan, to you and Simon, back to the paper and Negan. She scrambled it dismissively and huffed a humorless laugh.

“You fool. Every goddamn time played over and over again,” she snorted. “This is the kind of decision that will come back and bite you in the dick. That is what will get you killed someday,” Negan’s face got hard. He glared at his sister who glared back with the same amount of malice. It was actually disturbing.

“I think you need a time out. Why don’t you get the fuck out of here and cool it off somewhere safe. I suggest your fucking room,” he growled. It was more of an order than anything else. Nell scoffed. She passed him, stopped just to glare for a another second or two, and walked out of the door not without punching the wall hard enough you heard bones crack. Simon pulled you up and next to him. Negan sighed exasperatedly. He actually looked tired. “That woman will be the fucking death of me someday. You can’t choose fucking family, right?” he mumbled under his breath. “Gary,” the man stepped in immediately. “Go after her. Make sure she doesn’t do something stupid. And when she's cooled off enough get her fucking back in here. I think her hand might need a fucking look at,” he said flatly. Gary nodded tightly and left. Negan glanced at you and Simon.

“You don’t happen to have anything to do with our friend Daryl getting out?” Negan asked exhausted.

“I didn’t even know he did,” Simon said. Negan sighed. Then he shook his head.

“Get the fuck out of here back to the Outpost. Last thing I need to see is your fucking face right now. Wait for instructions, or whatever,” he growled and walked out, too. You and Simon wasted no time. You grabbed the little you brought and hurried to your truck. Simon dared to speak up roughly 15 minutes out of the Sanctuary,

“Jesus, that was close,” he pressed out. “I didn’t expect her to threaten to execute you. If Negan wouldn’t have shown up,” you interrupted him. It wasn’t like you didn't feel the same. And yes, it had been way too close, but overall, the plan had worked. You got Daryl out, and you had a scapegoat. Sherry was long gone. It was a bit harsh towards Dwight who now had a couple of rough days coming his way, but in the end he hadn’t anything to do with it and maybe Nell was right, it wasn’t that hard to fool Negan. He wouldn’t kill him.

“Relax, everything worked out just fine,” you got a little glare from him.

“Never again. I hope you are being aware of that. That was either borderline crazy or borderline genius, but from now on your only job is to stand around and look pretty,” he said matter-of-factly, and you laughed. You drove on for a bit until Simon pulled over.

“Guess that’s close enough. You stay back,” he said when he unbuckled. “He has a gun after all,” he got up and you followed him. Simon opened the trunk and stepped a step back. With a sigh, he lifted his hands. “Congratulation. You can read three easy instructions. I am a bit tired of you people putting guns on me, so would you mind?” Daryl got out slowly.

“You were at the clearing,” he grunted.

“Yes, I was.”

“You are one of them.”

“Technically I am,” the Colt got cocked. Simon sighed.

“Look, I and my associate here just promised your people we get you out of the claws of that bitch and we did, didn’t we? You go straight South from here,” he pointed in that direction. “You will stumble over the Hilltop. And then we talk. I am not your enemy. I am not your friend either, but in time maybe I will. She over there just risked her life to get you out, so show her some fucking respect, put the gun down and say thank you,” Daryl glared at you and Simon. He did lower his gun, but he didn’t say thank you. Not that you expected it. After an awkward pause, Daryl took to his heels, but he did grab the little backpack with a pair of boots more or less his size and a bottle of water and some food after all. You and Simon stared after him. Suddenly Simon kissed you with both hands cradling your cheeks. You were surprised, but you answered the kiss equally enthusiastically. He pulled away and looked at you seriously.

“You do something like this never again.”


	14. Chapter 14

The shot echoed loud over the meadow and you stared at the annoyingly intact coke bottle maybe 20 yards away. Simon stepped next to you. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well, you _did_ hit the fence, that’s an improvement,” he said with an encouraging head tilt and a little gleeful smile.

“That’s hopeless,” you mumbled and weighed the small revolver in your hand. Simon had picked it because it had basically no recoil and with a lot of fumbling you could even reload it by yourself. You doubted though that you would be able to do it under pressure. Simon wasn’t having any of it.

“Come on,” he said and stepped behind you. He nudged your left ankle. “Legs apart. Bend your knees a little. Alright. Relax your shoulder. You are way too tense,” he took your hand with the gun and stretched your arm out. You had the impression his instructions were accompanied by a lot of unnecessary touching, but who were you to complain. “It’s the way you pull the trigger,” he basically whispered in your ear. “You don’t “pull” it, you squeeze it, gently,” his words sounded like a proposition, they probably were, and sent all the right kinds of shivers down your spine. He brushed the skin of your neck with his mustache. This was really unfair. Suddenly he stepped back. “Alright then, focus, aim, squeeze. Make me proud,” you “squeezed” the trigger. This time the bottle busted into a million pieces. You beamed at Simon who just gave you a smug I-told-you-so look in return. “Now you only have to repeat that a hundred times then you good to go. Come on, the next one,” with a sigh you lifted the gun.

“Simon?” you both turned around and you nonchalantly suddenly aimed at Dean who tensed immediately.

“Whoa, I’m gonna take this,” Simon snatched your arm up and took the gun out of your hand. Dean relaxed. You mumbled an embarrassed sorry. “What is it?”

“Dwight’s here,” he stated. Simon shot you the smallest look.

“What does he want?”

“Talk to you? He’s outside,” Simon let one hand run through his hair and grinned at the other man.

“Then a talk, we shall have. Tell him I’m right there,” it was a dismissal, but Simon had to pull a little impatient face until Dean got it and walked away. Simon’s good mood dissipated into thin air. “That’s fast,” he mumbled. You had sprung out Daryl and Sherry merely 36 hours ago. Simon didn’t even want to bother hanging out at the rally point this evening because he doubted that the news had spread through the two communities yet, and he surely hadn’t expected Dwight to show up for another two or three days. He _had_ expected him at some point, since it was very Negan to send her husband, her _real_ husband, after Sherry, and Dwight was no idiot. “Alright, let’s meet him,” he said to you. You looked at him surprised.

“Me too?” Simon shrugged.

“We are a two-men revolutionary cell, full transparency I guess. Besides, what can happen, it’s Dwight,” the man in question, on the other hand, frowned deeply when he got a look at you. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit, Dwighty boy?” Simon said when he approached him. Dwight got off his bike. He shot you another glare.

“Can we talk alone?”

“Why, do you have any secrets to share? Spill it, I ain’t got all day,” a short flicker of puzzled contemplation flashed over Dwight’s face and then his frown got impossible deeper.

“Negan sent me out looking for Sherry. You know she’s gone, right?” he said in a hard voice. It looked like he tried to stare Simon down. The man was not impressed.

“Yeah, so? Do you expect her to be here?” what followed was a long and awkward pause. The air was so pregnant with tension you wouldn’t have wondered if its water would have broken.

“You tell me?” that was bold. It was still Simon Dwight was talking to. Simon who was at this point probably addicted to violence and would without hesitation tear Dwight from limp to limp when given a reason. And outright accusing him was bravery that naively walked into stupidity territory. 

“Anything you try to say, D?” he said slowly and flatly. Dwight furled his eyebrows and there was an awkward twitch around his lips. He was collecting his courage, you could tell.

“Did you let her out? And Daryl?” Simon’s face stayed absolutely impassive. That in itself was a huge give-away already.

“Did you?”

“Do you think I would come here and ask you of all people if you did it when I have?” well at least he knew that he was on thin ice here. There was the smallest smile around Simon’s lips. You would have missed it when you hadn’t watched him closely.

“So why would you even think I did it, hm? That’s a huge jump to a conclusion my friend,” there was another moment of machismo-filled staring. You rolled your eyes.

“We have,” you emphasized the we part. Dwight blinked at you while Simon gave you an actual glare for hailing on his parade. “I have, Simon was drinking with the doc,” you said snidely. Simon’s glare turned into an amused grin. “We weren’t expecting you to have a problem with that,” Dwight, momentarily forgetting how to properly common sense, actually crowded you a little. Simon let him. You had Dwight and his raised index finger in your face.

“You are aware that you sicced Negan on me with that, right? He thinks I did it and sent his psycho sister straight up my ass,” you managed to look blasé and just shrugged.

“You seem to have gotten out of this just fine. Kind of your thing am I right?” you definitely spent to much time with Simon. He let your little stand-off go on for another 30 seconds or so before he put one hand on Dwight’s chest and gave him a little shove backward.

“Okay that’s enough you two,” he clicked his tongue. “What do you say, Dwight. You want in?”

“In on what?” he snapped. Simon opened his arms.

“The Fall of Negan, a drama in three acts. Act one, conspiracy,” he announced. You weren’t sure what exactly Dwight had expected was the reason you sprung the two others out, but he seemed genuinely surprised.

“What?”

“You want him dead, I want him dead, she wants him dead and I know of a whole confederation of assholes who want him dead, so I decided in all my suicidal genius to give said federation of assholes the means and ends to do our dirty work. I would love to kill him myself, but sometimes you have to make accommodations,” Dwight looked rather dumbfounded.

“You mean Rick?” Simon gave him a little impatient look.

“Who else would I mean, hm? Haven’t talked with him yet, the plan is still a bit in limbo, very, very in limbo actually. Maybe he kills me on sight, who knows, but yeah when all turns out as we hope it turns out Rick’s the man,” Dwight let his hands run through his hair. He really needed to wash it. You frowned about your own thoughts. He paced for a while up and down, then he stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

“Where’s Sherry?” Simon shrugged.

“She told her to hide somewhere safe. Somewhere where you can find her when this is over. She has supplies, don’t worry about that.”

“How did you,” Simon interrupted him.

“Let’s say we are very resourceful, and my young lady here is way cleverer and way more Machiavellian one might expect. So? What will it be? Yay or nay?” Dwight opened his eyes and stared at you and Simon.

“Okay, I’m in. So what’s the plan?”

 

 

Simon was pissed off at you. He stood on a tree glaring into the distance with his arms crossed over his chest. You had a fight concerning your participation in the parley. Simon didn’t want you anyway near Rick and his people, you thought otherwise. You were in it now, and he had to remove you physically (and for a minute or two it had looked like he would actually do that) to get you away from here. If he would die today you would gladly die, too. Besides, it was less suspicious that he hung out in the woods for some reason when you were with him, and the men tended to leave you two alone when you were together.

“Maybe they won’t show up,“ you said to say _something_. Simon’s silent admonishing was going on your nerves.

“They are already here. They’re scouting us out for at least 15 minutes,” Simon said very lowly. You tensed.

“What?”

“And they ain’t as sneaky as they think,” Simon pushed himself away from the tree and walked a couple of steps forward. Then he got into his usual position, some kind of stationary swagger. “Alright people, show yourself. This is getting tedious,” he turned to you. “Can you at least do me the favor and get behind me, love?” you shuffled behind his back because you had not expected more than half a dozen people stepping from behind trees. You really weren’t good out here. Maggie and Sasha were two of them, also Daryl, but you didn’t know the others, a black woman with a katana, a guy with long hair you vaguely remembered from the Hilltop, a youngish woman with a messy ponytail and a guy with sweaty looks and a leather jacket that seemed way to warm for the Virginia summer. Every single one of them had their weapons on you. Simon clicked his tongue.

“No friend of subtility, are you, Rick,” he said. “I see Daryl found his way home, you are welcome, by the way,” Simon got padded down, for some reason you didn’t. You were unarmed, but still, you felt oddly offended by that. Rick held his heavy gun right in Simon’s face. It was astonishing how calm and unfazed he seemed to be.

“So it is really you,” Rick said with a drawl you couldn’t quite place, but it was from way more South than here, that was for sure. “I wasn’t sure, after what you did, on the road.”

“Ah, that. You mean the barricades and my well-orchestrated plan to get you where you were supposed to be? I am rather proud of myself for that. Or do you mean the unfortunate individual that had the questionable honor to function as a little showpiece for what’s to come for you? If it’s any consolidation, he shot at me first,” now Simon had the Colt on his forehead. He still looked like this was just another day in the office. You weren’t sure if you were impressed or shocked. Well, you were mostly terrified, so it really didn’t matter.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right here and now,” he pressed out.

“We both know you won’t. If you wanted to you would have killed me already. No, you want to hear what I have to say because you are neck-deep in a pile of shit with your hands tied behind your back and despite your arrogance, defiance, and bluster you have no idea how you and your people can get out of it. So put that gun away, step a step out of my personal space and start to listen,” the last words weren’t said lightly anymore. There was a long moment where Rick and Simon played a game of who-looks-away-first. In the end, Simon won. Rick put his gun in his belt. The others sort of followed, although you would still be gunned into pieces in a heartbeat if they wanted to.

“Why should I even trust _you_?” you hadn’t known that you could spat a pronoun like that.

“Generally you shouldn’t, but in this case? Because you and I have a lot in common, life goals for instance.”

“And what would that be?” Rick drawled. Simon smacked his tongue.

“Aw, don’t play stupid. Negan’s head on a spike, in Daryl’s case I suppose Nell’s, too. You met her, didn’t you? She has a rather captivating personality, gets your full attention, am I right?” Daryl quickly looked around uncomfortably. You doubted both that Nell went full enhanced interrogation on the man, Negan had wanted him to become one of them after all, but you were sure that she had the one or other go of light torture in the morning.

“What do you know about it, huh?” he somehow grunted. Simon shrugged.

“Been there, done that, and have my scars to show for it,” there was a subtle mood shift, barely there, but you had the impression everyone was a little bit less aggressive, maybe not so much in Rick’s and Maggie’s case, but the others shared ominous looks.

“You want him dead, why don’t you kill him yourself? All you have to do is go to him and put a bullet in his head. You are his right-hand man after all” Sasha asked. Simon sighed. You had expected the question.

“That’s easier said than done. What do you think will happen, hm? Do you really think I can just kill him and that is it? I’ll die, she dies,” he made a head jerk to you. “Probably some of my more loyal men die and then someone else will be in charge. His sister, for instance. There will be some power vacuum, maybe even a little revolution or two, but in the end, after this is settled, a lot will change, for you mostly. Believe me, you might think you have it hard, but without Negan, it’ll only get worse because as of now he is the one who keeps the dying in check,” Rick scoffed.

“Is that so?” his voice made a weird pitch up at the end. “He killed two of my people two days ago, good people, innocent people,” he leaned forward in Simon’s personal space. You could tell that he didn’t like it “Just like that, just because he could,”. Rick suddenly walked a bit away and let his hand run through his hair.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that, although knowing you people you probably gave him a reason to,” you could have smacked Simon over the head for that. Maybe Simon got your little glare. He sighed. “Full disclosure? Cards on the table? A lot of people among my people would love to see the Hilltop and your place going up in flames for what you did to the Outpost,” Simon was one of them, but he had enough sense not to say that out loud. “I ain’t gonna lie, and the only reason that didn’t happen is the man,” Rick looked at Simon in a mix of confusion and something like anger. That was truly one weird sales pitch. Sounded a bit like let’s kill Negan so we can kill you. “Now you maybe wondering why is he telling me that? See Rick, I’m pretty sure I know what you want. And a lot of people in the Sanctuary want that too. Your boy saw it, didn’t he?” rumors spread fast since nobody gossiped quite like a Savior, so the news had arrived at your doorstep last night that Rick’s son had shown up and tried to put some lead into Negan. Simon actually was awaiting some belated punishment for that since the boy obviously had hidden in a truck he personally had sent from the Hilltop. “The workers, the wives, hell half of the Saviors don’t want to be there, live how they live. Upper management has their grip tight around their throats. But when you strike us hard, fast, often, and where we don't expect it, cause a lot of confusion and chaos, decimate our numbers for all I care, you’ll get the chance to cut off the head. Hell, we’ll probably hand it over to you ourselves. And then it’ll be, I don’t know, a socialist’s wet dream for everyone,” Simon got assessed. You too. Daryl scoffed dismissively, the woman with the ponytail wasn’t sold either, Maggie probably, too, but the others seemed to at least entertain the possibility of siding with Simon.

“And where would you be in that picture?” the man with the beard and the long hair asked slowly. He had watched Simon the whole time silently but focused. Simon shared a long look with you.

“Oh, there is no place for me in that new world. I know that. Let’s say I caused too much damage,” he gave him a pointed look. There was a story there. “So me, her, and whoever wants to will simply go and try their luck somewhere else. You never have to see me again,” and properly this time. With a plan, maybe a map. Rick studied Simon for a very long time, then he suddenly turned around. For a second or two you thought he would leave, but he was actually gathering his people for some sort of meeting. They were well off earshot, but they were clearly arguing. Simon turned to you.

“That’s going great,” he mumbled and shot you a little smile.

“Yeah maybe you’ll keep the provocation a bit down?” you suggested. Simon frowned at you.

“What do you mean?”

“Knowing you people you probably gave him a reason?” that smug trademark grin appeared on his face. He couldn’t give you a probably snarky counter since Rick walked up to him rather briskly. Briskly enough to make Simon step a step back.

“No,” he snapped. Simon’s lips tightened. He had Rick’s Colt on his head again and this time he obviously thought that the last thing going through his head would probably be a bullet. “After all you did. After everything you took from us. We will _never_ work with someone like you. You are a murderer, a liar. There’s a community, you know, hides far from here. Only women and you know why do you?” Simon tensed. “You know exactly what happened to those men, those kids, not even teenager. Was it you? Because I have the feeling that something like that isn’t even Negan’s style,” shit. How they made that deduction was beyond you, but here you were. You frantically looked around. Simon wasn’t answering, he looked at Rick with empty eyes now, which could might as well be an admission. Rick cocked his Colt again.

“You really think you have a leg to stand on?” you heard yourself say. Simon shot you an are-you-mad look. Rick’s eyes flicked to you and back. “Who gives you the right?” you had thought about it a lot. You could understand those people to a certain degree, understand their anger, their hate, but they still were the ones that had stricken first, unprovoked. “Do you know how many Saviors Negan has? How many more Outposts like this? How many stashes, guns, bullets?” the woman with the ponytail was hovering right in the fringe of your personal space making damn sure to remind you that you stood in the line of fire here as well, but in for a penny. “Do you really want to throw away _the only_ chance to defeat Negan, get out of this deal, because Simon isn’t _up to par_ with your moral standards? _You_? He’s probably the only honest person here because _he knows_ who he is. Do you? I get it, you need some sort of narrative to justify what you have done, to kill a bunch of strangers that never had done anything to you, that you are fighting the good fight, fight for a free world or whatever. Fine, keep telling yourself that when it keeps you sane, but don’t think for one second you are better than him. None of you is. Call it what it is, you want revenge. We want revenge, too. Simon killed people, but you killed people, too, a lot I might add. So what is that “everything” the Saviors done to you, exactly, that “all”? You are in Negan’s claws for all but a week. That’s worth how many drops? Two? You lost your guns. Your dignity. And you lost five friends. They lost over 50. You provoked the dog and now you are complaining that he bit you. This whole mess is on you and you know it. You are not the victims here, the good guys, so put down that goddamn gun and take the helping hand we are offering you,” here you were, 100 pounds of righteous anger. A couple of those people who were now staring at you looked almost impressed. Simon did.

“Rick?” the black woman with the katana said. Rick took down the gun. Simon relaxed visibly. Daryl grunted something and walked away. Everyone was staring after him for a while, then they shared a couple of meaningful looks. What their meaning was was your best guess. Simon touched your arm, softly, gently. He stepped a step back and just like that, you were in charge of the situation.

“How many people do you have?” you asked Sasha for some reason. Rick was an asshole, it was decided, and you didn’t like Maggie either, she did have a knife on your throat, but Sasha seemed reasonable, Sasha, katana lady, and the guy with the impractical looking coat that looked like he was cosplaying Jesus. “Can they fight 500 guys with guns?” the number was a shock.

“Oh God,” katana lady mumbled.

“Have you talked with the Kingdom yet?” discount Jesus shrugged.

“Ezekiel doesn’t want to fight,” he said.

“Yeah then make him,” you snapped. You weren’t entirely sure where this attitude came from, but by some sort of weird spell, you suddenly had some kind of authority on your hand now. It wouldn’t last, so you hurried to make the best of it. “You can’t blame him, he has a good deal. He would lead his people from peace into war just like that, but I’m sure you figure something out. You get the people, we get you the guns,” you looked to Simon who pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket. It was a map, two maps, actually. “Well, you have to get them yourselves, but that should be easy,” not without hesitation you held the paper in Rick’s direction. He grabbed it equally reluctantly. “One is an old FEMA shelter, it got overrun. There are a lot of firearms there, and C rations. The other is a safe house, a weapons stash, too. But not only weapons, other supplies, food, fuel, meds.”

“Guards?” katana lady asked.

“Why guarding what’s guarding itself?” Simon chipped in. “It’s some sort of abandoned steel mill. When you get to it, it looks like there is just one way in overrun by hundreds of corpses. But that’s not true, there’s a back entrance, bolted, but not by lock and key, so you can get in. We covered it up with ivy and other plants, here,” Simon pointed at the secret entrance.

“When you have the people and the weapons we talk again. I’m sure you find a way to contact us. We give you the information you need and together we can decide how to end this. You come from the outside, we help you from the inside, Negan, and his sister die, and we are out of here,” you said matter-of-factly. Rick shook his head, but then he almost chuckled.

“I still don’t trust you,” he said. You shrugged.

“You don’t need to trust me to believe me on this one.”

“Alright,” he finally said. He gave Simon another once-over. It surprised you that he didn’t sneer at him. Simon looked more docile, and a little tired. The last thing was well hidden, and you doubted it anyone else, but you picked it up. “Guess we talk again then,” he nodded to his people and they slowly headed out. You and Simon got a lot of over the shoulder eyeballing when they retreated into the woods, but overall you hadn’t exactly the impression they just planned to murder you. Simon stood there and stared after them for a long time. Then with a sigh, he turned to you, waltzed over and took you in his arms wordlessly. He held you rather close, nearly a little too tight, but you didn’t mind. With a kiss on your temple and another on your forehead, he let you go and smiled down at your tiredly. He rubbed one eyebrow with his thump and shook his hand.

“You are awesome, do you know that?”

 


	15. Chapter 15

There was some commotion outside of Simon’s room, not the panicked kind, but enough that Simon frowned at the door for a second before he got up and ripped it open. Jared stood in front of it with his fist raised, ready to knock, and an uncomfortable expression in his hamster face. The reason for his discomfort grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him aside. Nell came in making Simon stepping back awkwardly. There was a man with her you didn’t know, older, with a beard and a casual suit. Simon’s eyes flicked to him, he frowned, and back to Nell.

“What are you,” he couldn’t go on.

“Simon,” she said in a sickeningly friendly tone. Her gaze glazed over you putting a disgusted expression on her face like you were some sort of especially nasty fungus. “You won’t believe the day I had,” she gave him a fake smile. Simon knew better than to interrupt her. “First, my dear brother, bless his heart,” she couldn’t say it more Southern if she had tried. “Fires the doc, quite literally, in the evil witch at the end of Hansel and Gretel kind of way, because, and color me doubtful about that, he apparently helped Sherry executing her plan on fleeing the premises taking our friend Daryl with her,” she had kind of wandered around in the room and had stopped now right in front of Simon looking him in the eyes. “What do you think, Simon, _did_ the good doctor Carson deserve to be burned alive?” Simon kept his face indifferent, it was actually shocking how little of a reaction he was showing. You, on the other hand, were relieved that the room was rather dim in the late afternoon light that fell through the small windows because you were sure you paled somewhat dramatically. “Anyhow,” Nell stepped back. Simon did relax a little. “So, I took it onto myself to pay the Hilltop a little visit to relieve them from the other Carson. You were just there, weren’t you? Just the other day to check out if Daryl somehow landed up there by random chance or other,” she glared again at Simon making a dramatic pause. If it was supposed to make you sweat from your own guilty conscious, it did the trick, at least with you. “Means. And that was when it really got interesting. Because after I had a little chat with our mutual friend Gregory here,” she clapped the other man hard enough on the shoulder that he flinched. “Guess what he told me,” this was it. She knew. She had to know. The plan was dead before it even started and you were, too.

“What?” Simon asked flatly. He thought that, too. Nell tucked her bottom lip.

“He told me that a couple of days ago out of the blue a couple of random strangers named Maggie and Sasha,” now it was Gregory’s turn to have her in his personal space glaring him down. “Because he doesn’t know anything about our Outpost being attacked and never met anyone named Rick before he keeps assuring me over and over again, showed up, basically taking over the community and, what was the phrase? Throwing him out of his own house. Oh, and it gets better. Four days ago Daryl, in the company of that asshole that calls himself Jesus, casually strolls in, too. So tell me, Simon, how can it be, that the widow, her friend, and Daryl somehow were sitting under your nose the whole fucking time and you missed it?” the last part was snapped at Simon who actually flinched. “And that’s not even all. He doesn’t know the details, or so he says, but Gregory here is sure that they are planning something, and not only is Rick and his pussy posse and half of the Hilltop in on it, no, he somehow managed to get that sword-wielding, tiger-taming King Asshole on board as well, and that motherfucker has a lot of guns and people,” she was pissed. Really pissed. You never have seen her losing her cool so quickly. Negan had the effect from time to time, but usually just after hours of yelling. Gregory had the survival instinct of a dust particle because he cleared his throat and actually said something instead of doing the reasonable thing and stand still in an attempt to disappear.

“I never said anything about a King,” Nell glared at him, suddenly a grin appeared on her face.

“Of course you haven’t, because although you confessed to me ‘the very instant you were aware’ of that betrayal you actually know shit and we knew already anyway,” Simon shot you the tiniest look, something he only allowed himself because she had her back to him. Then his eyes fell on his gun that lay on the little coffee table. You shook your head. Nell sighed and turned around. “You asshole will pay for your negligence concerning Maggie and cohorts, I’m gonna make sure about that, but meanwhile you can make it up to me. You come with me and you gonna bring a bunch of your best, and I mean best. Leave the rest, they can become cannon fodder for all I care,” Simon frowned confused, maybe a little relieved. She apparently wasn’t aware that you and he were in on it, too.

“To where?” she tsked impatiently.

“The Sanctuary, where we gonna make a plan how to crush that little revolution before it even begins. Where did you think?”

“How do you even know that?” Nell rolled her eyes.

“Fine, quick version, because Rick found and conspired with the wrong people. Seems like the Trashpeople aren’t sure that his little plan of assassinating my brother in the most spectacular way and corralling me and a bunch of very unhappy people in the Sanctuary will work, so the witch, the angel, and the pedophile came running and tattling and hammered out a brand-new deal with my brother,” shit. There went the whole plan. Negan was due for another drop the very next day. Rick had wanted to blow him and whoever was with him to pieces with dynamite Simon had kindly provided. Meanwhile, the Kingdom and the Hilltop wanted to lead a herd right in the front yard of the Sanctuary. Dwight was supposed to stir trouble from within all while Simon would have made sure that the Outposts didn’t come to help mostly by keeping them in the dark. There was an advantage in the fact that high command in World War II had better ways of communication than you now. Simon palmed his beard.

“Alright,” he said and waltzed out of the room. Probably to gather his men, because what else was he supposed to do? Nell gave you another look and sauntered out as well. Gregory stood around stupidly until a sharp call of his name sent him running after her.

“Shit,” you mumbled under your breath and dropped on the bed. What now? Simon came back, shot a quick look over his shoulder and pulled the door shut. He somehow crowded you a little.

“You need to warn them,” he said.

“What?”

“You can use a compass, right?”

“Yeah?”

“You take a map, your gun, and your machete. Wait half an hour after we’re gone and then you sneak out through the Western fence. The Hilltops 12 miles from here, keep Northwest, you cannot miss it,” Simon didn’t seem happy with his decision to send you out, but he was right, who else could do it? It wouldn’t go over very well when he would make a little side trip to the Hilltop himself with Nell in tow. “I know it’s dangerous, but you can do it, okay?” he gave you an encouraging smile. “I’m not clairvoyant, but when push comes to shove Negan sticks to simple and safe rather than exciting and uncertain, so he most likely gathers all our people, splits us up and one part will wait on the road for the ones supposedly drawing the herd to the Sanctuary while the rest will go to Alexandria. He’ll be there, too, and Nell. He never goes anywhere dangerous without her. Tell Maggie that, and the King, when they want them Alexandria’s the place to be. Tell them the Scavengers turned on them, tell them everything I just told you, okay?” You didn’t even know who the Scavengers were, but you nodded. “Alright,” Simon kissed you deeply and you followed his lips when he pulled away. With a last smile and a sad sigh, he hurried out of the room. You looked after him. There was a fair chance that you would never see him again.

 

You snuck out of the Outpost easily enough by dodging the guards who were huddling together in a corner trying to fight off the cold. It would be a clear night, but the rather humid chill already found its way in your jacket. You only had maybe half an hour of daylight left and hurried to make the most of it, occasionally stopping to listen into the woods. It was a young wood, not very dense, and the view was relatively clear, but it had the disadvantage that there weren’t a lot of leaves, branches, and other wood related clobber on the ground. The dead had a habit of being quite loud while stumbling through the undergrowth, but here they might be able to sneak up on you anyway. You hiked silently for nearly two hours, already in the dark of night when you heard the snap of a branch and froze. In one smooth movement, you slipped behind a tree. You peeked around it. One of the dead was stumbling slowly past you without showing you any interest. You let it. You waited until the last sound of its hissy groaning faded and then some more and stepped from behind the tree. Right into the arms of another one. It had stood perfectly still as they did sometimes, but swayed into motion the second it saw you. With a snarl, it threw itself on you. You know regretted that you hadn’t grabbed your machete already, pulled it out of its sheath, lifted it and let it rain down on the thing. You missed its head and chopped into its neck instead, almost going halfway in, sending a lot of splatter and putrefied blood your way. You both stumbled backward in some kind of awkward, deathly embrace, you only holding it away from you by the length of the machete stuck in its body and landed hard on the ground.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath and tried to push it off. There was another snarl from your left. The one you just had let pass obviously came back. You gave the roamer on top of you a hard shove and scrambled backward away until your back hit something hard. For a second you panicked. It was a tree. You tried to pull yourself up on it when the first roamer grabbed your leg and sunk its teeth in your foot. It never broke skin, only bit your boots, but the fact alone that it actually managed to bite you let you freeze. It gnawed on the solid leather of your shoes, all while somehow clawing on your jeans. A scratch could end deadly, too and there was a second one not even 20 feet away from you. You kicked it with your other foot until it let go and stomped on it some more until you heard the satisfying crack of a skull and it finally stopped moving. The other one was barely an arm’s length away. You desperately hauled on your machete until you remembered that you had a gun. You pulled it but never shot. The dead got dragged away and dropped down, now with a fresh knife wound in the back of its head. You stared at Alden who stared at you. Rather calm and collected you put your gun on him. Your hand wasn’t shaking.

“Woah, it’s cool,” he said and lifted his arms. “I’m not here to hurt you or anything.”

“I’m not going back,” you stated. You had no idea what he was doing here, or what he wanted, or if he was alone for that matter.

“I figured. Saw you sneaking out. Thought I might follow you, you know, since Simon gave me a job, and that’s keeping an eye on you. The right call, I guess?” he somehow grinned. You really liked Alden, but here you were contemplating shooting him because he could ruin everything without even knowing nor actually wanting to.

“Just go back, forget I was here,” you said. He took a deep breath.

“Look, I know you’re not running _from_ Simon and there is only one place in that direction that’s even worth heading to. So,” he shrugged. “You want to go to the Hilltop, so let’s get you there,” you looked at him dumbfounded, and because you were so stunned you said something stupid.

“How do you know that?” why not laying out the whole plan to him already?

“Common sense? We heard what Rick was planning. You suddenly sneaking out and run in that direction? You don’t need to be a genius to know that you hate Negan and Nell. So I just put two and two together here. Simon and you are helping them, am I right?” you cocked the revolver. With some effort. He looked at the barrel uncomfortably. “I’m not stopping you. If anything I’m here to help.”

“Why?” you asked in a rather hard tone.

“I don’t know, because it’s the right thing to do? I’m standing by and watch for months what Negan does to these communities, how he extorts them, treats them like shit, and I did nothing. I sometimes think that’s worse than actually playing along. I don’t like it, many of us don’t, but every one of us is too chickenshit to do something. And that’s just what Negan does, Nell’s worse. I had a friend, he got caught stealing, was the third time. Not even for himself, he had a little kid. In the case you ever wondered, a person can take 12 nails to the head before they actually die,” you swallowed.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he shrugged again.

“So you have a plan, right? And you are on your way to warn them that Negan knows now about the plan. I want to help you. It’s probably a little too late to redeem anything I let happen, but it’s a start,” you sighed and put your revolver down. That was either smart or stupid, but you actually believed Alden here.

“Fine, but don’t think I won’t shoot you,” he grinned a little.

“I have no doubt about that,” he took his hands down. You signaled him to start moving.

“Come on then, lead the way.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one before the great finale... brace yourselves people :)

You had arrived at the Hilltop sometime around midnight and let’s say you hadn’t been exactly taken in with open arms, especially Alden. You actually didn’t blame these people. They only teeth-gnashingly worked with Simon, and none of them had been happy to hear that Dwight of all people was their new inside man in the Sanctuary and suddenly you, who only shined so far with your somewhat general there-ness brought a total stranger to their doorstep bearing tales of betrayal and double-crossing. You were half aware that a huge part of the heated discussion, except from generally doubting that you told them the truth and were just here to lure them into an elaborate trap, was about if or if not they simply should kill both of you on the spot. You would have objected, but then there was the tiger.

You had heard Simon say it, has a pet tiger, you had heard Nell say it, tiger-taming King Asshole, but somehow you never actually believed that they were talking about a living, breathing, real-live tiger, with teeth and claws and stripes and apparently a name that sounded like a reject from the Jungle Book. You weren’t the only one captivated by the cat sitting relaxed on the bed of a pick up only held by a chain that might as well could have been a string of floss. Alden probably just peed himself a little as well. They had him tied down, but again, like the last time when they simply assumed you were unarmed and harmless, you weren’t. That was probably disableist. They had taken your gun and machete, though. You forced yourself to pay attention to the heated conversation.

Apparently Daryl, rather emotional if one asked you, wanted to simply ignore that the Saviors knew now that they wanted to attack the Sanctuary and go anyway. That guy who allowed them to call him Jesus, although his name was Paul, was against it. Maggie wanted to go to Alexandria. All of them had piled up a little group of yea-sayers behind them. They wasted a lot of time.

Alden had briefed you about the Scavengers, the Trashpeople most Saviors were calling them because they thought that they were clever, and this group was residing in a scrapyard, and that Negan had somehow a “we ignore you when you leave us alone deal” with them. They were batshit crazy, the whole lot of them, Alden’s words, not yours. You began to wonder if Maggie and friends had actually understood that Rick’s plan was dead and given the signal this clan of weirdos, and according to Alden they were a lot, would turn on him, since they were discussing in circles for two hours now instead of sending someone to Alexandria giving them, crazy idea, a little heads-up.

“Nah, you and the Kingdom go to Alexandria, we follow through with the plan,” Daryl repeated for the umpteenth time. Did these people just meet each other? They had terrible communication skills. You cleared your throat.

“No, we need you in Alexandria, all of you,” was Maggie’s stoic and quite repetitive answer. You cleared your throat again. Reluctantly some eyes landed on you.

“What is it?” Jesus asked.

“You are aware that if you somehow manage to dodge the Saviors that most likely right now are blocking every road and passage, and lead that herd to the Sanctuary, you lay siege on a bunch of workers and a handful of soldiers while the main body of Negan’s army is out and about and a very large portion, Negan and his sister included, are going to make a very graphic example out of your ringleader, probably his son, and whomever they feel like it? That night on that clearing will look like bring your kid to work day compared to that. And you are also aware that when you leave that place and the Kingdom unguarded, or only guarded by Average Joe and Aunt Mae over there, the Saviors, who most likely will come knocking on your respective front doors, will make short work of them, right?” you got glared at. After you had been in you had been in and Simon had discussed with you quite a lot of Negan’s strategies and defenses in place. He hadn’t actually discussed it. He had told you, while simultaneously thinking it through, looking for weaknesses, trying to figure out how Negan would react in certain scenarios, sometimes appreciating your input or just needing to hear you repeat it. But that didn’t mean that you hadn’t listened, and it did mean that you now had maybe a rather basic, but very clear understanding of how Negan ticked, strategic wise.

“What do you know?” Daryl snapped.

“More than you, asshole,” you regretted that you said that, but now it was too late, might as well put everything you had in bravado and glare back at him.  

“So what do you know?” everyone looked at Sasha, who had asked the question, like she just grew a second head.

“I know that Negan and his sister will be in Alexandria. I know they will take Simon with them and his men, who are not in on the plan, since Nell isn’t trusting him, and she wants him around,” you were actually sure about that and it scared the hell out of you. “So without Simon, the rest of the Satellite Outpost is out of the picture, and you are actually in luck with that, because that would mean Gavin will split his people up, leading them to the Kingdom and here. You are lucky because Gavin’s smart and careful and your place here, and what I gathered the Kingdom, too, is easily defendable and he will not risk his men to die on the walls. So if you leave enough of your people here he will settle with a simple siege from afar. That leaves Regina’s people forming the roadblocks, trying to intercept you. Regina’s a coward and her people are idiots,” Alden actually nodded to that. It was an open secret in the Sanctuary, but every dim candle in the chandelier was sent to the Shepherd Outpost. “So yeah, with a plan other than let’s just run in there guns blazing,” you gave Daryl a pointed look. “You maybe be able to ambush the ambush, but skip the whole herd part and focus on the attack. And the rest of you go to Alexandria, tell Rick about the fact that the Scavengers betrayed you, that that bomb won’t work and maybe you arrive just in time to hit Negan hard, maybe take not even him out but his sister, too,” you licked your dry lips. “And maybe not Simon and Dwight,” you added a little softer.

“That young maiden speaks words of wisdom,” you gave the King a wary look. Frankly, that show was annoying, but at least he was on your side. That made him either the smartest or the stupidest man here, depending on from where you were looking.

“Yeah I don’t know about the maiden part, that ship sailed a long time ago, but thanks,” you mumbled.

“We don’t know if we can trust her,” Tara somehow snapped. You sighed.

“Why? Why on earth would I lie about anything I just said. I risked my life to get Daryl out. I risked my life to get here. If this somehow a trap why would I go through all these great lengths when all I would have to do is sitting it out comfortably in my room at the Outpost while Rick gets on the business end of Lucille and the rest of you folks get gunned into pieces and you Maggie and the King will end up on the fence of the Sanctuary. I don’t know if you ever have seen it, that’s not something someone would aspire,” you said tiredly. This was exhausting. They wanted revenge which made them stupid but acted like they were doing it out of righteousness. You were tired of being judged and downgraded constantly. “But you know what? Do whatever you want. Believe me, don’t believe me. You don’t believe me it’s your people dying. I don’t care, really,” you closed your eyes and let your head fall back against the car you and Alden were sitting. You had a headache, and you were tired. And scared. Not so much for you, but Simon was somewhere, and that bitch Nell was with him and he was about to be in the middle of the line of fire, no matter what. You heard them having a hushed discussion and somehow wished all of them, the whole bunch, would just go poof and disappear for good.

“That was a pretty good speech,” Alden said next to you. You chuckled.

“Thank Simon for that. He taught me everything. But also, I was in the debate team in college, maybe this finally comes in handy,” you said without opening your eyes. You sat like that for what felt a really long time. Suddenly you got kicked, lightly, but anyway, rude. It was Maggie.

“Get up,” she ordered, and you obeyed with an annoyed sigh. “You, too,” she said to Alden. Then she glared at him before she cut his zip-ties.

“We will do what you proposed. Don’t make me regret it,” she said. Her face was rather hard. “You both come with me. The second I get the feeling your words don’t pay out I’ll kill you myself,” you somehow scoffed. At this point, this threat wasn't exactly sending chills down your spine. It was actually scary how fast you can get used to being in constant life-threatening danger. Did these people feel like that every day? Did Simon? This had to suck. 

“Fine, fair enough,” you mumbled.

“You are aware that she cannot fight, right?” bless Alden’s heart. He took that keeping an eye on you business real serious.

“Don’t worry about that, we'll keep her safe,” Maggie said sarcastically. Then she gave you a little shove. “Come on, we have a long way to go. Let’s move.”


	17. Chapter 17

The Saviors were already here. A cooler person than you would have dished the self-proclaimed Militia some witty quip about efficient time management in extreme situations, or even just a lame I told you so, but you weren’t that person. You were in panic, plain, and simple. You were a civilian in a war zone, and you had absolutely no business in being here. You never had been in any sort of firefight, and now bullets were spraying around everywhere. You could _feel_ them passing you. They hadn’t even given you back your arms, not that you would’ve have known whom to shoot anyway since you literally had no idea what was going on here.

Everything had happened in less than two minutes, but it had played out in slow motion. You had arrived on the back wall of Alexandria and got shoved inside through a secret passage that opened into a backyard of some house that was shockingly unguarded. The thought crossed your mind if that was somehow Simon’s doing since he knew about it. An Asian guy you didn’t know dragged you along and around a corner right in the middle of Negan attempting to acquaint Lucille with some kid’s head. Simon stood next to him with his arms crossed and a tense expression, guarded and clearly uncomfortable which was really uncharacteristic for him. And then that tiger had killed a man. There had been a moment of stunned silence, apart from the panicked and pained screams and the loud growling of the cat, maybe just a second, rather less, and then all hell broke loose. Nell went straight for Simon who went straight for Negan and everybody else went straight for anybody else. It was chaos all around. Alden had grabbed you and shoved you roughly against a wall yelling at you to keep your head down. Negan was still too stunned to even register that Simon was basically half on top of him already when he noticed Nell running over to him with her gun raised. Simon simply punched her in her face. If you would get out of here alive this would forever be a fond memory. Negan hadn’t taken Simon knocking his sister out too kindly and tried to hit him with Lucille, but somehow Simon had managed to not even dodge him but to disarm him and beat him with his own weapon. Negan had gone down like a dead weight. This all had maybe taken 20 seconds, but it hadn’t been over. The zone where the three were in was too hot, so Simon had dragged Negan up and behind a car, not caring about his sister. He maybe had knocked her down, but he hadn't knocked her out. She had gotten up, a bit wobbly but rather unfazed considering that there was lead flying about her everywhere, and had looked around, probably for Negan when her eyes had landed on you. A little sinister smile had appeared on her face and that was Alden’s cue to yell “Okay, we gotta go!” in your ear. No one had been paying your sudden retreat any attention.

He currently pulled you into a little alley between two houses where he stopped and gave the rifle he had taken from a body, you had no idea if friend or foe or on which side you were supposedly on in the first place, a hasty check and peeked around a corner very quickly.

“Shit,” he said.

“What is it?” instead of answering he took your wrist and dragged you further into the alley and onto the back porch of one house. He tried the door. To everybody’s surprise, it was open.

“That’s probably a bad idea,” he mumbled. “Get in. Hide somewhere.”

“What?” he gave you a little shove and you stumbled inside. Alden closed the door. You were in some kitchen, and for some reason, the only thing you could think was that the place was quite neat. Alden grabbed your arm. A lot of people grabbed your arm these days.

“Ok, the house is clear, go upstairs and hide in some room,” you had no idea when Alden had found the time to check the house.

“Why?” a part of you knew that you were difficult right now, that you just should do what he was telling you, but the situation was something you could barely handle. Fear makes dumb. Your father used to say that. Alden palmed his face.

“Because she saw you and she’s after you, okay?” these words brought some much-needed clarity and set you in motion. You ran upstairs and in the first room you found, slammed the door shut, turned the lock with shaking fingers and stepped a step away. You looked around. It was a bedroom, but there was no mattress on the bed, just the frame. The fight outside was still going strong, there even was an explosion at some point that let the whole house tremble. Hesitantly you walked to the window and glanced carefully down onto the street. It was empty except for some dead guy. Suddenly there was bang downstairs, the sound of struggle, a shot and then silence. You could practically feel the blood draining from your face. Your heart skipped a beat or two before it quickened its pace a little bit more. There was no place to hide in this room, not even a closet. Someone came up the stairs. You pressed yourself against the wall, closed your eyes and tried to calm yourself down. Whoever came upstairs stopped in front of the door. You could see the shadow of their feet. A child could kick in a door like that, Nell probably hadn’t even put in some effort. She stood there, with her gun casually held in her hand and was currently wiping away some blood from her split lip with her thumb. Simon did this. You actually were kind of proud of him.

“Hey hon,” she said and walked in. You retreated still pressed against the wall until you had no more room left and your shoulder hit the adjacent wall. “Hadn’t really expected to see you here, but, well,” she grabbed you by the hair on the back of your head and yanked you away. She was surprisingly strong, but maybe that shouldn’t be a surprise considering she was an inch taller and probably three times fitter than you. “Come on then,” she hauled you out of the room and nearly threw you down the stairs, but you could catch yourself on the banister just in time. She didn’t let you regain your footing but pulled you up instead and dragged you down with her. It was more of a half-controlled fall. Alden lay on the kitchen floor. You had no idea if he was dead. You were half-way through the living room on your way to the door when it got pushed open. Nell stopped. She carefully brought you in front of her. You didn’t know if you should cry or laugh, but it was Simon and he wasn’t alone.

“Well, this is awkward,” Nell suddenly said. Negan looked pretty banged up. Simon hadn’t gone easy on him. They stood opposite from you and Nell in the same position, Negan as a human shield in front of Simon, you even got the proportions right.

“You know this is over, right?” Simon said flatly. “You won’t come out of this alive.”

“Maybe, but neither do you.”

“Let her go!”

“Why would I do that, hm?” Simon pressed his lips together.

“Because then I let Negan go,” he said like the words caused him physical pain. You weren’t quite sure, but he looked like he actually meant that. Nell behind you scoffed.

“Double-crossing your new friends already. That was fast.”

“I am not doing this for them.”

“Oh right, this is some elaborate revenge. But seems like you don’t have the guts to do the deed yourselves so you sicced these assholes on us. Well done. If I hadn’t seen it myself that this is not the case one might think you have a pussy where other men have their dick,” she snapped. “Maybe I should give you a little incentive to go the extra mile,” she pressed her gun onto your temple. Simon’s response was to throttle Negan a bit stronger. A pained groan escaped the man.

“You don’t know what you just did there,” he pressed out.

“Shut up,” Simon snapped. Despite everything, Negan managed a snigger that fitted the smug grin on his face.

“You ruined everything, you know that? Everything will go to shit now, and it’s your fault,” Simon did something with Negan’s arm that he had behind his back and he couldn’t keep in the cry.

“I will kill him,” he said now rather threatening. You hadn’t expected the answer.

“I literally don’t care. It isn’t that the asshole hadn’t it coming,” even Simon looked puzzled for a split second.

“I told you, you can’t reason with crazy,” Negan chuckled.

“You know what? I do it myself,” and just like that, she shot Negan in the stomach. He didn’t even look surprised. And he wasn’t the only one that got shot. Both men went down. She gave you a rough shove and you fell over a sofa head first onto a coffee table.

The world turned bright white.

There was a high-pitched ringing in your head that gradually faded making way for a sharp pain in your forehead. You couldn’t see at first. You had no idea how long you lay there on a plush carpet, but you had enough time to take in the pattern in great detail, an abstract swirl of black and white lines, that were slowly stained by something red. You stared at your own blood with unfocused eyes. The sound of someone getting chocked reached your ear and you pushed up laboriously. The room around you spun like crazy. You managed to somehow pull yourself up on the couch and slumped onto it. Nell had straddled Simon’s chest and had both her hands around his throat. He tried to get her off, but he couldn’t, he was too weak. The left side of his khaki button down was one dark-red bloodstain. Your head was forgotten. You frantically looked around for any kind of weapon and finally, your eyes landed on the rifle that still lay next to Alden. You got on unsteady feet and stumbled over to him. You never had a rifle in your hand, you had no idea how to use it, so you did the smartest thing. You hit her over the head with it, with a run-up. She let go of Simon who took a sharp breath and dissolved into a coughing fit. Nell somehow slumped to the right, but again she wasn’t knocked out. How was that possible? You wanted to hit her again, but she kicked your legs away with one of hers. You landed hard on your back but managed that your head didn’t hit the floor again. You shot her a quick look. She was stumbling up on her feet. During the whole thing, she had lost her gun and it was your sole focus right now. You rolled to your side, and onto your stomach, and pulled yourself forward. Your fingertips brushed over the grip and you frantically tried to get a hold on it. Nell grabbed your calf. You turned around as quickly as you could and kicked her against her right knee, but your aim had been off, and you didn’t have enough leverage so the only thing you achieved was sending her tripping a couple of steps backward. From the outside, that whole fight had to look really inelegant and clumsy. You pushed yourself up in a sitting position, aimed the gun, braced your shooting arm with your stump for the recoil and shot three times. Just like Simon told you. You hit her clean in the chest. She stopped. A look of surprise appeared on her face. Her eyes fell on the wounds. Then she touched the blood seeping out of one and observed her fingers thoughtfully. She lifted her gaze and looked you straight in the eyes. Something like a smile crept on her face.

“I didn’t think you had it in you,” she said softly. A string of blood ran out of the corner of her mouth now and she went down in stages, first on her left knee, then on both before she simply fell over on her side. She probably was dead before she hit the floor. For a second you stared into theses cold hazel eyes that were now lifeless and broken. Simon. You jumped up and ran over to him. He tried to put pressure on the wound in his left upper abdomen with his hand. It wasn’t bleeding a lot, but blood trickled out of it slowly but steadily. You carefully rolled him over a little. There was an exit wound. Hectically you shrugged off your jacket and pulled the light sweater you were wearing over your head, crumbled it into a ball and pressed it onto the wound. Simon groaned in pain.

“It’s alright. It’s gonna be alright,” you mumbled. You repeated these words again and again. You needed help. But where from?

“You killed her,” you barely heard the words. Negan coughed. You looked up. “You fucking killed her,” he sounded like he would cry. Was he serious? She just shot him. Your eyes fell on his stomach. His wound bled more than Simon’s. You were surprised he still was alive. In a slow crawl, he made his way to Nell’s body and pulled her into his lab. You almost felt pity when he slowly started to rock her. He actually cried. Even Simon looked over with a frown, despite the tremendous pain he had to be in. What Negan was doing there was really dangerous, and in hindsight that maybe had been his intention all along. You couldn’t say how long you were sitting there in the strangely quiet open-floor living room. Long enough. Nell’s left hand twitched. Then her right leg. Negan _had_ to feel it. You just watched how she slowly came back to whatever fucked up form of life the dead had in them, her eyes glazed over. Her hand pawed on Negan’s arms aimlessly before she could get a hold of the collar of his leather jacket, pulled him down and sunk her teeth somewhere into his neck. He didn’t make a sound, he just closed his eyes and let it happen. Rick and some others, to your surprise Gary and other Saviors among them, had great dramatic timing. They maybe had heard the shots, you didn’t know, but they basically breached the building. All stopped dead in their tracks and looked horrified onto the scene of Negan getting devoured by his own sister. It was Rick who stepped forward. The two gunshots were loud in the room.

Gary was suddenly next to you. He gently pushed you aside and looked under your bloodstained sweater. Simon sort of grinned up to him, it was strained and distorted by pain, but still.

“Did we win?” Gary ripped parts of Simon’s shirt away and looked at the wound with a professional frown. He knew what he was doing.

“When you mean with we this botchy alliance we throw together on a very short notice? Then yeah, we won. We need to get you stitched up. But you'll probably live,” Gary took your hand and pressed it back on Simon’s wound. “Hold it like that, never lose pressure. I’ll be right back,” you looked after him and around the room. To your relief, Alden was sitting upright holding his shoulder while a guy with black curls you knew was one of Rick's pressed something against the bleeding wound on his head. The mood was strange. Everyone looked down on the two dead bodies and shuffled around awkwardly, especially the Saviors. The tyrant was dead. What now? Simon touched your arm. You turned to him.

“I taught you to aim at the chest,” you had to chuckle. A chuckle that mixed with a sob.

“Yeah, you did.”

“I’m gonna take credit for that,” he reached out and took your cheek in his hand. It was bloody and sticky, but you turned your head and pressed your lips against his palm. He was slipping away, you could tell.

“Simon?”

“It’s okay,” he mumbled. “Everything will be okay,” with that he closed his eyes.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

You walked down the stairs of the Sanctuary with a heavy step and a thoughtful frown barely registering the people you passed. They had two default reactions to your presence anyway, respect or resentment. You and Simon, and a small group of loyal followers who Simon somehow had managed to recruit in the wee hours before Negan went to Alexandria, apparently had overthrown Negan and Nell quite out of the blue and the rest of the workers and Saviors had been presented with a fait accompli, suck it up, there is no Negan anymore, you’re welcome. And now they had to work with a couple of people who just eradicated another Outpost. The Militia had ambushed Regina and her people on the street. No one had made it out alive. You sometimes wondered if that was actually true, if killing all of them had been necessary, since when you boiled it down, nearly every Savior was just a coward who hid behind heavy artillery and a lot of people, and you doubted that neither of them surrendered at some point. You felt guilty about it because you had told Maggie and the King to attack those people. This was on you and now you had to live with it. And then there were Gary and the others who had killed their fair share of Saviors, of their own people, during the attack in Alexandria as well, so it was maybe needless to say that there was a lot of tension in the air.

The power vacuum was barely filled with a ragtag band of high ranking, more or less like-minded Saviors, namely Gary, Dwight, Alden, Gavin, after he surrendered fast enough, and Laura, and in the past six weeks at least seven different fractions emerged, sticking their head out carefully, stirring some trouble. The whole Sanctuary was a powder keg about to explode, and the only reason it hadn’t so far, was that each and every group waited for another one to make the first move. At least Gary and the others had the workers on their side, and they were a lot of people.

You stepped out of the compound into the backyard. Gary was loitering with his back against the wall smoking a cigarette. He was probably hiding from the bullshit inside. You strolled over to him and he wordlessly offered you one.

“Wanna know the newest rumor?” he asked around his smoke while he gave you fire. You had quit smoking a while back, but you had started again. You were a veteran now. You had killed someone. You could smoke one once in a while, while making cynic remarks about the war.

“Hit me,” you just said. You got along with Gary rather well the last couple of weeks. Guess shooting that bitch in the chest had raised you in his eyes and he wasn’t that much of a scary asshole you had initially thought he was.

“You, single-handedly,” he grinned at you and you gave him a look. “Killed both of them, with your bare hands,” then after a break. “Hand, really,” you punched him in the arm, and he chuckled. Then he palmed his face. “Man, he always said that she would be the death of him one day, but like this? This is fucked up. You probably did _her_ a favor, but I don’t know. He didn’t deserve to go out like that,” strangely enough you agreed with Gary.

“Yeah,” you both stood around solemnly deep in your own thoughts. Gary put out his cigarette.

“Alright, back to another day in paradise. Sometimes I wonder if we did the right thing,” he said and pushed himself away from the wall. “Hang in there, kid, and tell your friend Frankie she should stop bossing around the people in the garden. I literally have a shitton of better things to do than settling catfights,” he said over his shoulder already walking to the door. You sighed. Apparently, human relations was now your field of duty for some reason, because you were such a people person, you guessed. You brought them together. You continued your little trip to the outskirts of the Sanctuary. Subconsciously you gave the shed Nell had tortured Simon in a wide berth and walked further to a little green area by the fence. You stopped in front of the grave and stared down on the flowers, a little bunch of daisies. You exhaled heavily.

Simon put one of his arms around your waist from behind and pulled you against his chest. With a sigh, you let your head drop against his shoulder.

“Did you find out who is doing this?” you asked. You could feel him shrug.

“Just some kids. They probably didn’t even mean much by it.”

“What did you do to them?”

“Scared the shit out of them, what do you think,” you had to chuckle. Letting some of the Saviors bury Negan had been a mistake, and Simon had been epically pissed that Gary and the others had let this happen. It wasn’t that they had allowed it, it just somehow slipped their attention and here you were, with a fucked-up shrine for the man. At least it was just him, not his sister, who could have been rotting in the woods right now, for all you cared. Actually, they burned her, but it said a lot that they hadn’t burned Negan, too.

Simon would have shut it down before it even had started, but he had been too busy with trying not to die at this time. It had been touch-and-go for a while. The wound got infected, but Simon had somehow soldiered through. He wasn’t 100 percent yet, one of the reasons you still were here. Your plan to leave still stood, especially now, after Rick’s group had not only found these women whose men Simon had killed, but brought them here. You doubted that they would ever forgive the Saviors, but even less so with Simon around.

“Gary thinks we should stay for a while longer,” that was the other reason you still were here. Apparently, Simon’s mere presence kept a lot of people in check. He himself didn’t want to lead, and if you were being honest with yourself he probably shouldn’t. He had some serious self-control issues after all. That wasn’t the best qualification for the job. “At least until everything calms down a bit,” he mumbled. “Of course given I stay as far away as possible from Alexandria and the Hilltop,” this only sounded half-jokingly.

“Maybe we just sit out the winter, should be long enough,” you said. Simon hummed as a response.

“That’s what I was thinking. Great minds think alike, eh?” you scoffed. Then you turned around and put your arms around his waist. Simon stood tall on purpose, so you couldn’t reach his lips when you got up on your toes. He smirked when you pressed a little kiss against his chin, then on his pulse point and a soft one on his jar.

Simon leaned down to give you a kiss before he let you go and walked over to the grave. After a moment of hesitation, he picked the flowers up and threw them over the fence. Then he took your hand and you both walked to the Sanctuary.

Eight months ago a naïve, spoiled, and stupid girl walked into a room she wasn’t supposed to be and kissed a man she wasn’t supposed to have, and they both had paid their price by going through hell and back. And somehow, you had no idea how they had come out of this alive and kicking and stronger than before. You had no idea what the future would hold, if it was bright and happy, or dark and sad, filled with tears and violence or laughter and joy, but at least you and Simon would be in it together. You and him against the world, the only person you wanted to be with.


End file.
